


Of Loves and Heroes

by JustAFigmentOfYourImagination



Series: Doyle Lives [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Rewrite, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAFigmentOfYourImagination/pseuds/JustAFigmentOfYourImagination
Summary: Doyle sacrificed himself to save others, but he still had so much to offer, so much left to do. And the Powers That Be noticed. He is given the rare second chance to fulfill his own destiny fighting alongside Angel and to try to find love with Cordelia. But fighting the good fight isn't always easy. A rewrite of season 1 where Doyle survives.





	1. Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Despite how briefly he was on the show, I always really liked Doyle. Furthermore, I loved him and Cordelia as a couple, and I was really sad that he died and that they didn’t get more time to explore that. I have nothing against Cordelia/Angel, but I’ve always liked Cordelia/Doyle more. I used to really like doing rewrites like this, and I haven’t done one in a long time, and I was re-watching Doyle’s episodes recently, and I decided to go for it. I hope to eventually write all five seasons of the show with Doyle. It’s been awhile since I’ve done a long-term published fanfiction like this, so bear with me. I might be a little rusty. I’ll do my best.

Doyle took a deep breath as Angel looked at him, a resigned determination in his eyes. He could hear Cordelia take a sharp breath behind him. He knew that look. Angel was going to sacrifice himself to save everyone. There was no doubt that disabling the device would kill him, but there was no other way. Everyone on the boat would be killed if it exploded.

            Except it couldn’t be Angel. Doyle knew that, in his gut. Angel could not be allowed to die now. He was too important. He didn’t know much about the future, but he knew that much, without a speck of doubt. The world was going to need Angel, when whatever was coming finally came. Angel could not be the one who sacrificed himself to save these people. That role, he realized, fell to him. This was about his redemption, not Angel’s. He’d been the one who had let the Scourge kill his fellow demons before, and now was his time to make that right.

            He thought he’d be afraid at the prospect of his own death, but he felt oddly calm. He knew this was what he had to do, and that brought a sort of peace to him. He looked at Angel again, who was still waiting for him to say something in response. He reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. Then he punched him in the face.

            Angel fell to the deck below, met by several gasps. Doyle turned to look at Cordelia, and for the first time since coming to his decision, he felt a small flicker of doubt. To leave her…before he even really had a chance to truly know her… He stepped over and kissed her, because he had to do it once. When he stepped back, she stared at him with shock and confusion. “Too bad we’ll never know.” He said. He morphed into his demon face. “If this is a face you could learn to love.”

            She had never seen his demon transformation before, and her eyes widened slightly, but for the most part she didn’t react, too occupied with everything that was going on. Below them, Angel was getting to his feet. “Doyle!” He called as he started climbing back up. “Doyle!” Doyle ignored him. If he let himself stop and listen, he would only allow himself to be talked out of it, and they were running out of time anyway. He got a running start and jumped off the platform, grabbing onto the light hanging above the center of the room.

            It burned like nothing he had ever felt, seeping under his skin as he struggled to unplug the device. He could vaguely hear Angel calling to him from behind. They’d be okay, he tried to assure himself. He and Cordy, they would move on fine without him. The heat was increasing, coursing through his body. He was running out of time, and he was getting weaker. He felt his demon face fade away as the intensity continued building. Finally, he pulled the two cords apart. There was one last burst of light which swallowed him up, and a wave of the worst pain he had ever known, and then darkness.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            The feeling of waking up was an odd one, mainly because he hadn’t expected to feel it again. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a marble floor. He sat up slowly, expecting to be sore, but found he felt perfectly fine. He looked around. The whole room was built from the same white marble as the floor, and was glowing with soft white light. There was a hallway leading off from the far wall, which looked very long and eventually faded into the light. He realized with a start that he wasn’t alone; there was a woman and a man. They were gold with streaks of blue, and were both looking at him expectantly. “As far as the afterlife goes,” Doyle said hesitantly, “This isn’t really what I pictured. I was hoping for a bar with endless free whiskey or something like that.”

            “He’s facing the consequences of his own mortality, and he resorts to humor.” The man said, disdain in his voice. “How typical of a lower life form.”

            “Shush.” The woman told him. She looked at Doyle. “You are Allen Francis Doyle?”

            “Yes Ma’am.” Doyle replied, getting to his feet and eyeing her uncertainly. “And you are?”

            It was the man who answered, still speaking with a condescending tone that Doyle decidedly was not a fan of. “We are the Oracles of the Powers That Be.”

            Doyle swallowed hard. “So…I’m dead?”

            “Yes and no.” The woman said.

            “Meaning?” Doyle asked in confusion.

            “You died.” The man said bluntly. “Your sacrifice killed you, as you knew it would.” Doyle nodded wordlessly. He had expected as much. He knew what he was signing up for. He just couldn’t let himself think of Cordelia or Angel.

            “It was very brave.” The woman said softly.

            “Bravery does not factor into this decision.” The man told her.

            “What decision?” Doyle asked in confusion.

            “The Powers That Be have decided that you are too valuable to die.” The man said.

            “Too valuable?” Doyle repeated in shock. He had never been told he was too valuable for anything.

            The woman nodded. “You are an important part of the mission of the vampire with a soul.”

            “Angel?” Doyle said. She nodded again.

            “He needs you.” She said.

            Doyle was silent for a moment. “Forgive me.” He said. “I guess I was just under the impression that the visions could be passed on in the event of-“

            “They can.” The man interrupted.

            “It’s not just the visions.” The woman said. “He needs you just as much as he needs the visions you provide.”

            Doyle fell silent again, surprised and unsure what to say. It felt like there had to be some mistake. He had never been important beyond the visions given to him. Certainly not important enough for the Powers That Be to even notice his death, let alone decide that something needed to be done about it. “So what does that mean?” He asked finally.

            “You are being returned to the mortal world.” The woman said.

            Doyle turned to look at her in awe. “They’re resurrecting me?”

            She actually smiled slightly. “I suppose you could say that.”

            “I…I don’t know what to say.” Doyle stammered.

            “You are expected to earn it.” The man warned him. “It is incredibly rare for the Powers That Be to interfere with the natural order of death in this way. They are doing it for you, and in return they expect that you will fulfill your role fighting for them.”

            “Of course.” Doyle said quickly. “Fighting the good fight. I will.”

            “You are being given a second chance at life, but it is the only one you will get.” The woman warned him. “The next time you meet your death, it will be final, regardless of whether it is fifty years from now or tomorrow. Use your chance wisely.”

            “I will.” Doyle said seriously. His heart was pounding in his chest- which, he realized, was actually something to marvel at considering only a few minutes ago it hadn’t been beating at all- while his mind raced trying to keep up with everything that was happening. He had died, but was being given a second chance to live. He could see Angel and Cordelia again. Cordelia…

            “The visions.” He said suddenly, looking at the Oracles again. “I passed them on before I jumped.”

            “We know.” The man said. “They have been returned to you. The girl, Cordelia, she is human. An ordinary human would have an incredibly hard time handling the Sight. She has an important role in the fight too, but not as a Seer. That is your gift.”

            Doyle nodded. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this.” He said after a moment.

            “It’s not what you’ve done.” The woman said. “It’s what you’re going to do.” And with that, there was a flash of light that briefly blinded Doyle. The floor disappeared beneath his feet, and a moment later he slammed onto solid ground again, causing him to fall to his hands and knees just as his sight cleared again. He was on the floor in the middle of the Angel Investigations office, alone.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Angel and Cordelia had both been completely silent the entire drive to the office from the docks. They had seen the others off in the boat, and then returned to Angel’s car so he could drive them both back. Cordelia was fighting tears again, and failing. Angel drove with a stony expression. It wasn’t until he parked on the street outside the office that he looked at her. The street was abandoned except for them, which seemed to intensify the silence, and Angel didn’t know what to say.

            It was Cordelia who spoke first. “I can’t believe he’s gone.” She whispered.

            “I know.” Angel said quietly.

            She looked at him, tears running down her cheeks. “There’s so much I didn’t say to him.” She said. “I…I liked him, and…I never told him…I was so mean to him…if I’d only given him a chance…”

            “You can’t think like that.” Angel said. “He made his choice. He was a hero.”

            She nodded, wiping her eyes. “He was.” She agreed. “He really was.”

            Angel got out of the car, and she did the same. “Come on.” He said, putting his arm around her. “Neither of us should try to get through this alone. I’ll make tea.”

            They walked inside the building and up to the office door. “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than tea?” Cordelia asked tiredly.

            “I might have something.” Angel replied as he opened the door. They stepped inside, and both of them froze.

            Doyle was sitting on the corner of Cordelia’s desk, staring at the floor, but he looked up with he heard them come in, and stood up. He saw the stunned looks on their faces, and opened his mouth to speak, but found himself at a loss for anything adequate to say. “Hi.” He finally said lamely.

            There was several second of silence, and then Cordelia cried, “That’s all you’ve got? ‘Hi’?”

            “I don’t understand.” Angel said, frowning.

            “I know.” Doyle said. “It’s kind of a long story.”

**000000000oooooooooo00000000**

            Angel ended up making tea after all. The three of them went downstairs to his kitchen, and sat around the table with tea while Doyle explained what the Oracles had told him. “Next thing I knew I was back here.” He finished. “It all happened so fast I barely had time to comprehend any of it.”

            “So, that’s it?” Cordelia asked, the first time she had spoken since he had started his story. “The PTB just brought you back from the dead?”

            “I guess.” Doyle said, looking down at his cup uncomfortably. “I guess Angel needs his window to the Powers.” He had left out the part about being important himself; it made him uncomfortable, and was awfully personal anyway.

            “Whatever their reasoning,” Angel said, looking at him, “I’m glad you’re okay. And I’m sorry there was nothing I could do.”

            “Oh, don’t go getting all broody on me.” Doyle told him. “It was my decision. It was in no way your fault.”

            Cordelia sighed and stood up. “Well, it’s been a long night.” She said. “I’m going home.”

            Doyle got up and followed her, catching her just before she started up the stairs. “Cordy,” He said, “Can we talk?”

            “Talk about what?” She asked, turning around. “Should we have further conversation about you hiding the fact that you’re half demon from me for months?”

            Doyle faltered. “I know, I’m sorry…but I thought you said-“

            “Or should we talk about how you kissed me and then sacrificed yourself by jumping into a big ball of evil light?” She continued as though he had not spoken. “I mean, I thought Angel was overdramatic, but that was off the charts!”

            “I get it, you’re upset.” Doyle said. “I understand. It’s been a long night for all of us.”

            “No!” Cordelia cried. “How am I supposed to react to that, Doyle? I mean, you just kiss me, something we had never even come close to doing, and then you go off to get yourself killed! What the hell is a girl supposed to say to that?”

            “I know.” Doyle said desperately. “But I only had a couple of minutes, and I had to make a fast decision. I knew there was no way I was getting out alive, so I just…”

            “So you just kissed me.” Cordelia finished for him. “Because that wouldn’t be confusing or traumatic for me? To kiss you for the first time moments before I had to watch you die?”

            Doyle hesitated. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…I needed to do something.” Cordelia looked away, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you still want to have dinner with me?” He asked her.

            She returned her eyes to him. “Oh no.” She said. “Don’t even go there! Since the PTB seem to have undone everything that happened tonight, why don’t we just assume that they undid that too?”

            Doyle met her eyes for a moment, and then nodded. “Fine.” He said. “Whatever you want. See you tomorrow.” She nodded back and then disappeared up the stairs.

            He lingered at the bottom as Angel came up behind him. “She’s just upset after everything that happened.” Angel told him. “You were right, it’s been a long night. She just needs some sleep and time to calm down.”

            “I know.” Doyle said, turning around.

            “She was really devastated.” Angel continued. “She’s happy you’re alive. Trust me.”

            Doyle managed to smile at him. “Thanks, man.” He said. He massaged his temples, and Angel looked at him with concern.

            “Are you okay?” He asked. “I mean, you did die. No one would blame you for needing time to recover or not being totally okay. I do have some experience, if you want to talk.”

            “Honestly, man, I’m just exhausted.” Doyle said. “I mean…yes. I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a good idea to talk about it. But not tonight? I really just want to go home and get some sleep. Can we talk tomorrow?”

            Angel nodded. “Of course. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Doyle nodded and started to walk upstairs. “Doyle?” Angel asked, causing him to pause and look back. “I am glad you’re alive.”

            After a moment, he nodded again and smiled. “Thanks.” He said. “Goodnight.” He went upstairs. Angel smiled to himself and returned to the kitchen.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Doyle walked into his apartment and turned on the light before dropping his jacket onto the floor and pausing to look at his reflection in the mirror he had propped against the wall. He even looked exhausted. He sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. He had been totally wired and wide awake when he had first met Angel and Cordelia in the office, but telling them the story and the journey home had drained him, both physically and emotionally, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been this tired.

            He looked at his reflection for a moment longer, running the events of the evening through in his head. Filming Cordelia’s commercial felt like years ago. He closed his eyes for a moment, and the feeling of the heat from the light flashed through his mind, seeming to run through his body. He gave an involuntary shudder and opened his eyes. He pushed the horrors of the day to the back of his mind. He just needed some sleep. Tomorrow, life had to resume.

            He was fine. Just fine.


	2. Parting Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

When Doyle walked into the office, Cordelia was already sitting at her desk, reading a magazine. “Morning, Princess.” He said. “How are you?”

            “You’re late.” Cordelia commented lightly, not looking up.

            He sighed. “Sorry. Overslept. I was really tired, and obviously I didn’t get to bed until even later than usual.” He walked over to the coffee maker and picked up a mug. He felt better than he had the day before, but he still felt inexplicably tired. He had fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow, and slept straight through his alarm, yet somehow he still had this lingering feeling that he ought to curl up in his bed again. Cordelia looked up from her magazine and watched as he poured himself coffee.

            “Is that your mug?” She asked.

            He glanced at her, surprised. “Um, no. Have we assigned everyone certain coffee mugs? ‘Cause I don’t think I got that memo.”

            “No.” Cordelia said quickly, shaking her head. “You’re allowed to use any mug that you want. I was just thinking…maybe you’d want to have a special one? One that’s yours?” Doyle hesitated and gave her a quizzical look, not sure where she was going with this. She sighed. “Forget it. I was just thinking you’d like it, that’s all.”

            Doyle looked down at the mug in his hands. “I like this one.” He said uncertainly, holding it out for her to see.

            She smiled and nodded. “That one’s yours then.” She said.

            “Whatever you say.” He took a sip and then said, “Mind telling me what’s got you so determined to assign me a coffee cup?”

            “I was just thinking, last night, after you died, that you ought to have something tangible in the office that was yours.” Cordelia said with a small shrug, looking almost sheepish, an unusual look for her. “Something that proved that you were here.”

            Doyle raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Um, thanks. I love sentimental gestures that come in the form of coffee mugs.”

            A grin flashed across her face, and she stood up and stepped around her desk to stand across from him. “Listen, I may have said some harsh things last night.” She said. “I was trying to process everything that happened, and I took out my emotions on you. But I’m sure you were dealing with a lot too. I mean, you were the one who actually died. So I guess what I’m saying is…I’m sorry.”

            Doyle slowly grinned at her. “Say that again, Love? I didn’t think I’d ever hear you actually apologize to me.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “In all seriousness, though,” Doyle continued, “Thank you. I appreciate it. And I understand why you were upset. Everyone’s emotions were running high last night.” After a moment, he said, “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll reevaluate that dinner proposal?”

            “Don’t push your luck.” Cordelia advised.

            He nodded. “Fair enough.”

            “I’m glad you’re alive.” Cordelia told him.

            “Sorry, what was that?” Doyle asked teasingly.

            She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of herself. “You heard me.” She said as she turned away, back to her desk. Doyle smiled at well.

            Angel walked in from his office. “Morning.” He said, nodding to Doyle. “I thought I heard you out here.”

            “Yeah.” Doyle said. “Sorry I’m late.”

            “Don’t worry about it.” Angel told him.

            Cordelia picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Well, I’m out of here.” She said.

            “Out?” Doyle repeated, frowning. “But I just got here.”

            “I’ve got an audition.” She said. “I’ll be back later. Wish me luck.”

            “Good luck.” Angel said.

            “Break a leg.” Doyle told her.

            “Thanks.” Cordelia replied. “See you later.” The other two watched her go, and then Angel turned back to Doyle.

            “How did you sleep?” He asked.

            “Like the dead.” Doyle said with a straight face. When Angel didn’t react, he said, “Too soon?”

            “You tell me.” Angel said. “It happened to you. Sometimes humor helps you cope. Or so they tell me.”

            Doyle couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. When he saw Angel’s questioning look, he explained, “One of the Oracles said something similar.”

            “Do you still want to talk?” Angel asked seriously. Doyle hesitated, and Angel said, “Come in. Sit down.” He retreated back into his office, and after a moment, Doyle followed. They both sat down at Angel’s desk.

            “Honestly, there’s not much to talk about.” Doyle said. “I died, and then I came back. It happened. I’m okay, and ready to move on.”

            “How much do you remember?” Angel asked.

            It was a moment before he answered. “All of it.” He finally said quietly. “I remember all of it. But it really wasn’t much worse than some of the other things that we’ve been through. I’m fine.”

            “Really?” Angel asked.

            “Yeah.” Doyle said. “Why?” Angel hesitated and lowered his eyes slightly. Doyle looked down and realized that his hand holding his mug was trembling. He set the mug down and put his hand in his lap. “I should really lay off that caffeine.” He said casually.

            “I’m just saying it’s okay if you’re not fine.” Angel said. “No one would blame you.”

            Doyle looked at him. “Do you remember?” He asked.

            Angel understood what he was asking about. “Yes.” He said. “I remember them both. When Darla turned me, and when Buffy sent me to hell. Like it was yesterday.”

            Doyle looked down at his hands again and was silent for several seconds. Then he said, “It hurt.” He could feel Angel’s eyes on him as he spoke. “The light burning through me, it felt…it was pain like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Sometimes I swear I can still feel…” He trailed off, and then looked up at Angel. “Anyway, maybe after that, the visions won’t feel so bad anymore, huh? That would be a silver lining if there ever was one.” Angel smiled, though he still looked a little concerned.

            Before either of them could say anything else, they heard the front door open. They looked at each other, and then got up and went to go see who it was. It was a demon, with small horns coming out of his head and wearing a shirt akin to something Doyle might wear (aka something Cordelia would undoubtedly dub a “fashion disaster”). “Can we help you?” Angel asked.

            “Yes.” He said. “Are you Angel?”

            “That’s me.” Angel said. “What can I do for you?”

            “I need your help.” He said. Doyle looked at Angel, who shrugged and ushered him inside.

            Once they were in Angel’s office, the demon turned to them and said, “My name’s Barney. And full disclosure: I’m a demon.”

            “You don’t say.” Doyle said sarcastically. Angel, who was sitting in his chair next to where Doyle was standing, elbowed him.

            Barney looked at Angel. “You know, I just noticed. It’s daytime. If you’re a vampire, shouldn’t you be in your coffin?”

            Doyle quickly made slashing motions across his throat to try to get Barney to shut up. Angel growled in the back of his throat. “Coffins. I _hate_ that stereotype.”

            “You’re a demon and you don’t know anything about vampires?” Doyle asked.

            “Only what I learned from TV.” Barney said with a shrug.

            “Vampires don’t sleep in coffins. It’s a misconception made popular by hack writers and ignorant media.” Angel said. He got to his feet as he continued, “In fact, you know, we can and do move around during the day, as long as we avoid direct sunlight. Got it?”

            “Got it. Sorry. Didn’t want to push any sore spots.” Barney said.

            Doyle decided it would be wise to step in at this point. “What is it we can do for you?” He asked.

            Barney looked at him for a moment. “You really have been through the ringer, haven’t you?”

            Doyle frowned. “Pardon?”

            “Sorry.” Barney said quickly. “I didn’t mean to pry. I’m an empath demon. I can feel people’s emotions. I was just getting a lot off of you, that’s all. No specifics, just feelings. But it’s none of my business. Anyway, yes. I do need your help. Someone’s following me. Someone dangerous. It’s been going on for weeks.”

            “Do you have any idea who?” Angel asked.

            He shook his head. “He’s merciless. He’s almost gotten me more than a few times. This guy is good, he knows what he’s doing.”

            “Do you know why he’s chasing you?” Angel asked.

            “No.” Barney said. Both Angel and Doyle gave him skeptical looks, and he said, “Honest! I’m just trying to get through life like anybody else.” When they continued in their disbelief, he sighed. “Look, I’m an empath. That gives me a certain advantage when it comes to cards.”

            Doyle snorted with laughter. “Oh, I know your type.” He said. “Lost a fair amount of money to people like you in the past. Why don’t you give us non-empathic variety a chance once in a while?”

            “Look, I’m no angel, I know that.” Barney insisted. “But I haven’t done anything that ought to warrant this. I’m scared.”

            Doyle looked at Angel, who said, “Give my associate and I a chance to discuss it.”

            “Of course.” Barney said quickly. “I’ll leave you to it.” He retreated to the main office, closing the door behind him.

            “So?” Doyle asked.

            “I don’t know.” Angel said contemplatively. “Do you believe him?”

            “I believe he’s being chased.” Doyle replied. “He seemed plenty scared. The question is whether he’s telling the truth about why.” Angel nodded in agreement.

            “Might be worth looking into, at least.” He said.

            “That’s what I’m thinking.” Doyle said. “Maybe we should-“ He broke off as he doubled over in pain, supporting himself on the desk as the familiar splitting pain ripped through his head and a vision flashed before his eyes. Angel grabbed his arm to help him as the vision faded. Doyle groaned, rubbing his temples. “Okay, scratch that theory about the visions being less painful now.” He said. “That was just as bad as it’s ever been.”

            “What did you see?” Angel asked earnestly.

            Doyle squeezed his eyes shut, trying to bring the pictures back into his mind. He made a noise of frustration and banged his fist on the table. “That was the single vaguest vision _ever_!” He cried. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “Thanks a lot for that, you ungrateful bastards!”

            “What was it?” Angel asked.

            “I don’t know.” Doyle said, shaking his head and wincing as the room seemed to spin a little in response, the pain still throbbing in his head and his stomach turning. “It was just a room somewhere…I’m not sure what was going on, but it wasn’t good.”

            “Do you know where it was?”

            “No!” Doyle said angrily, pushing Angel away. “Um…distinguishing features…” He closed his eyes again and concentrated. “It was all blurry, it was hard to pick anything out…there’s some sort of gray blob…damn it, what is that?” He opened his eyes. “Give some time, okay? I’ll get back to you. I don’t think it was happening right away, we have some time.”

            “Okay, if you say so.” Angel said. He watched Doyle hold his head in his hands for a moment, and then said, “Hey, so it wasn’t the clearest vision. The connection might just be a little rusty. Maybe you need a chance to adjust again after-“

            “Do me a favor, would ya?” Doyle interrupted testily, looking up and glaring at him. “Stop bringing up how dead I’m supposed to be.” Angel fell silent. Doyle sighed. “I need a minute.” He said. He stalked off to the bathroom.

            As soon as he shut the door, he went to the sink and slashed cold water on his face. He took a moment to breath before looking up at the mirror. “I’m fine.” He muttered under his breath. “I’m fine.”

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            When Cordelia returned, Angel, Doyle, and Barney were all in the main office. Barney was sitting on the couch, Angel was going through some of his files, and Doyle was sitting at Cordelia’s desk with a pad of paper and a pencil. “Hey guys.” Cordelia said brightly, putting her bag down next to the desk. When no one said anything, she went on, “The audition went fine, thanks for asking.”

            Angel looked up. “Oh.” He said. “Great.” Doyle made a noncommittal noise, not looking up from his paper. “This is Barney.” Angel told Cordelia. “He’s our new client.”

            “Pleasure to meet you.” Barney told her.

            Cordelia looked at Doyle, then came up behind him so she could see his paper. He was drawing an odd gray blob shape. “Huh.” She said. “What is it?”

            Doyle growled and ripped off the page, crumpling it up and throwing it in the trashcan. “I don’t know!” He said irritably, throwing the pad and pencil onto the desk and letting his head fall into his hands.

            Cordelia raised her eyebrows, surprised by the reaction. “Okay.” She said. “Frustrated artist, huh?”

            “He had a vision.” Angel told her.

            Doyle looked up. “A ridiculously vague and unhelpful vision.” He said. “I have no idea what it was. I’ve been trying to draw what I remember and see if I can work it out, but it’s not working.”

            “Maybe you need a break.” Angel advised. “Why don’t you and I go check out Barney’s place, see if we can find any traces of this guy that’s following him?” Doyle nodded and stood up. “Cordelia, you stay here and watch Barney.” Angel continued. “You can take him downstairs if you want. We just have to make sure he’s safe in case this guy comes for him.”

            “Sure.” Cordelia said with a nod. Angel headed out with Doyle in tow.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            When Angel and Doyle entered the hallway of the building Barney was living in, it was mostly dark, and the one light was flickering on and off. “So this isn’t ominous at all.” Doyle said, looking around. Angel hummed in agreement. Doyle glanced at him. He’d had some time to cool down by now, and he felt kind of bad about snapping at him. It wasn’t Angel’s fault that his vision had been hard to understand, and it was unfair to take it out on him. Any of it.

            He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen, man, about earlier-“

            “Doyle,” Angel said, turning around to face him, “It’s okay. I told you, it’s alright for you to be a little on edge today. Don’t worry about it.”

            Doyle nodded. “Thanks.”

            “Come on.” Angel said. “I think this is it.” He went up to the next door along the hall and opened it. Doyle followed him inside.

            It was a small, shabby room, without much to see. “What are we looking for, exactly?” Doyle asked.

            “I don’t know.” Angel replied. “Anything we can find, I guess.” Doyle started looking around, but Angel suddenly froze. “Someone’s coming.” He said. Doyle turned around just as an arrow from a crossbow whizzed passed them and hit the wall. He retreated behind Angel and turned to look as a man with glasses in a leather jacket walked in, with a crossbow pointed directly at Angel.

            “Hello Angel.” He said.

            “Wesley.” Angel returned evenly.

            Doyle looked at Angel in surprise. “You know this guy?” He asked.

            “We’ve met.” He replied.

            “I’ll wager you never thought you’d see me again.” The man, Wesley, said.

            “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t given it much thought one way or the other.” Angel said. “What are you-?”

            “Ah-ah-ah!” Wesley cut him off, raising his crossbow higher. “I’m the one asking the questions here. And I think it only fair to warn you, any sudden movement and I’ll be forced to-“ Angel casually knocked the crossbow out of his hand. “Right.” Wesley said, taking a step back. “You had a question?”

            “Would one of you like to explain what’s going on here?” Doyle asked.

            “Doyle, this is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. He works for the Watchers’ Council. He was Buffy’s Watcher for a short time. Wesley, Doyle.” Angel introduced.

            “Correction.” Wesley said. “I used to work for the Watchers’ Council. After what happened in Sunnydale-“

            “They fired you?” Doyle guessed. He had heard about what had happened in Sunnydale from both Angel and Cordelia, and couldn’t say he was all that surprised to hear that the Watcher was no longer with the Council.

            Wesley raised is head defensively. “I decided I would do more good elsewhere.” He said. “I’m a rogue demon hunter now.”

            “What are you doing here?” Angel asked.

            “I’ve been tracking this demon for some time.” Wesley explained.

            “So you’re the one who’s chasing him.” Doyle said.

            “Chasing him?” Wesley repeated. “He’s left a trail of bodies everywhere he goes!”

            Angel and Doyle looked at each other. “That guy?” Doyle asked skeptically. “I mean, he didn’t really strike me as the vicious murderer type.”

            “Are you sure you’ve got the right guy?” Angel asked.

            “Yes.” Wesley said, walking farther into the room. “Everywhere he goes, he leaves traces of a yellow mucus.” As he spoke, he turned around to face them again, and something yellow dripped onto his shoulder. Both Angel and Doyle saw it.

            Angel walked over to Wesley and showed it to him. “Like that?” He asked. Slowly, all three men looked up at the ceiling. A large demon was lurking above them. Angel pulled both Wesley and Doyle out of the way as the demon dropped down to the floor. Wesley grabbed his crossbow off the ground and shot it, but it crashed through the window and escaped.

            Doyle looked at Angel. “What the hell just happened?” He asked.

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            When Angel, Doyle, and Wesley walked into Angel’s apartment beneath the office, Barney immediately cried out. “That’s him!” He yelled, pointing at Wesley.

            “Relax.” Doyle told him. “There’s been a bit of a mix-up.”

            “He wasn’t chasing you.” Angel said. “He was chasing the demon who was chasing you.”

            “Probably saved your life.” Doyle added.

            “Really?” Barney asked.

            “I think I know what it is. I’ll be back.” Angel said. He disappeared into the next room, presumably to pull out one of his books. Barney followed him.

            Cordelia walked in. “Wesley?” She asked in surprise.

            “Cordelia?” Wesley asked. “My, it’s lovely to see you. I didn’t expect to run into so many people from Sunnydale here in LA.”

            “Yeah! Well, I’m mostly here because I’m an actress.” Cordelia told him. “But I’ve been helping out Angel and Doyle on the side.”

            “Yes.” Wesley said, looking at Doyle. “So I’m curious. What’s your story, Doyle? How did you get involved with the world of the supernatural?”

            Doyle opened his mouth to respond, but Cordelia got there first. “Oh, Doyle’s half demon.” She said.

            “Half demon?” Wesley repeated in surprise, raising his eyebrows.

            Doyle gave Cordelia a look. “There’s a reason I don’t usually lead with that, but thanks.” He said.

            “Oh, come on, it’s not that big a deal.” She told him. “I’m sure Wesley’s cool with your demon side. Besides, Angel’s full vampire, so you’ve still got one up on him.”

            “Absolutely.” Wesley said. “As long as you’re fighting on our side, I don’t care what you are. It’s always nice to meet someone else in the business. I’m a rogue demon hunter now.” He told Cordelia proudly.

            “Wow.” She said. “What’s a rogue demon?” Wesley’s face fell, and Doyle had to look away to hide his grin. “Anyway,” Cordelia went on, and she pushed a new pad of paper and pencil into Doyle’s hands, “I believe you have work to do. You need to try to identify the gray blobby thing from your vision.” Doyle sighed and took them, heading over to the couch. “He also gets visions from the Powers That Be.” Cordelia told Wesley.

            “You know, Cordy, I think there are a few people a couple of blocks away who couldn’t hear you telling my life story to this total stranger.” Doyle said.

            Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Ignore him.” She told Wesley. “He’s been in a bad mood all day.”

            Angel and Barney returned. “Okay, I have an idea as to where we can find this demon.”

            “I’ll go with you.” Doyle said, starting to get up.

            “No, you stay here with Cordelia and Barney.” Angel told him. “We need you to decipher your vision.” Doyle sat back down with a sigh. Of course.

            “Great.” Wesley said eagerly. “I’ll go.”

            “No, I’ve got this on my own.” Angel said. “I’ll be fine.”

            “Are you sure?” Cordelia asked.

            “Yes. I’ll be back later.” Angel replied. He headed upstairs. Doyle looked grudgingly at the blank paper in front of him. Sometimes he hated this job.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Doyle looked at his latest attempted sketch of his vision with dismay. Wesley had left some time ago (to follow Angel, he suspected), and Cordelia was in the other room. Barney, however, came and sat down next to him. “So.” He said. “I couldn’t help but overhear earlier. Visions, huh?”

            “Yeah.” Doyle sighed. “My gift from the Powers That Be. Pain and confusing images. Some gift, huh?”

            “That’s pretty rare, isn’t it?” Barney asked.

            Doyle nodded. “Extremely, from what I’m led to understand.”

            “I mean, it must be helpful in your line of work.” Barney went on.

            “It can be.” Doyle said, annoyance creeping into his voice. “When they make sense. Do you have any idea what that is?” He showed him the drawing.

            Barney looked at it for a minute. “No.” He said finally.

            “Yeah, neither do I.” Doyle groaned. He set the paper aside. “I think Angel’s got some tea hidden in one of these cupboards. You want any?”

            “Sure.” Barney said. Doyle got up and walked over to the kitchen.

            He was so absorbed in his thoughts as he made the tea that he didn’t even hear Barney enter the kitchen until he spoke. “You’re really hung up on her, aren’t you?”

            He turned around. “Huh?”

            “Cordelia.” Barney clarified. “Come on, don’t deny it, it’s pouring off you. You’re in love with her.”

            Doyle sighed. “Yeah.” He said. “What of it?”

            “Too bad she’ll never feel the same way.” Barney said. Doyle froze midway through returning to his tea. “I mean, you know, right? You’re not actually deluding yourself into thinking you’ll ever have a shot with her, are you? What would she see in you? After all, you’re a monster. Or half one, at least.”

            Doyle turned back to him. “Look, I don’t know what mind games you’re trying to play with me,” He began.

            “You’re thinking it, not me.” Barney said. “I can feel it. She’ll never feel anything but disdain for you, and you know it.”

            “Shut up.” Doyle said, stepping forward.

            Barney laughed. “Wow, look at you. You’re barely holding yourself together. What happened to you, exactly?”

            “Okay, I think it’s time for you to-“ Doyle was cut off when Barney suddenly hit him across the face, sending him against the wall. Before he had a chance to recover, Barney grabbed him and slammed him onto the table, pulling his arms back and holding him there.

            “Look, you seem like a decent guy.” Barney said. “But a Seer’s eyes are just too valuable to pass up.”

            Doyle morphed into his demon face and used his added strength to push Barney back. “You really don’t want my eyes, pal.” He said. “These visions aren’t all they’ve cracked up to be.” Barney ran at him as he turned around and knocked him against the table again, but this time Doyle pushed back, struggling against him.

            “Doyle!” Cordelia came in from the other room, undoubtedly drawn out by the noise.

            “Cordelia, run!” Doyle shouted.

            “Get your hands off him!” Cordelia shouted at Barney. She ran at him, and he turned and hit her as hard as he could, sending her flying back across the room and hitting the floor, knocking her out.

            “Cordelia!” Doyle yelled again, his face morphing back to normal, and Barney used his temporary distraction to get the upper hand, grabbing Doyle and slamming his head against the table, knocking him out as well.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            “Cordelia? Cordelia, can you hear me?”

            Cordelia groaned and opened her eyes. She was lying on the floor in Angel’s kitchen. Angel and Wesley were both crouched next to her, looking at her with concern. She slowly sat up. “Ow.” She said, rubbing her head. “That hurt.”

            “What happened?” Angel asked seriously. “Where’s Doyle?”

            Then she remembered. “Doyle.” She said, getting to her feet as the others did the same. “He took Doyle. Why would he take Doyle?”

            “For his sight, most likely.” Wesley said. “It turns out that Barney auctions rare supernatural abilities. A true Seer is extraordinarily rare, Doyle would probably be worth quite a bit to him.”

            “Oh god.” Cordelia whispered. “I tried to stop him, but he already had him and there was nothing I could…we have to save Doyle!”

            “Do you have any idea where Barney was taking him?” Angel asked. She shook her head. Angel sighed and walked to the living room, thinking.

            “Let’s walk through this logically.” Wesley said. “Barney must have left some clue about where he was headed.”

            Angel paused and picked up Doyle’s notepad from the couch. “Cordy,” He said, and held up the drawing, “Was this what Doyle was drawing from his vision?”

            “Yeah.” Cordelia said. “But he didn’t know what it was.”

            “I do.” Angel said. “I’ve seen this before. I think I know how to find them.”

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Wolfram and Hart. He’d been sold to Wolfram and Hart.

            Of course, Doyle didn’t want to be sold to anyone, but he was pretty certain that Wolfram and Hart were the people he least wanted to be sold to. He’d stalled the biding as long as he could, but ultimately no one had met their final bid, and now he was being dragged off to the back to meet the representative who would take him.

            “You’re making a mistake.” He told Barney as he brought him to the back room. “You’ll regret this, I guarantee it.”

            “Shut up.” Barney told him, pushing him ahead. His hands were tied behind his back, and though he’d been struggling against the rope since the beginning, he’d made very little progress. As he walked into the room, something caught his eye. There was a statue off to the side that was the exact gray blob shape from his vision.

            Spectacular. Just freaking spectacular.

            The woman from Wolfram and Hart was waiting for them. “I don’t need him.” She said, referring to Doyle. “Just the eyes. I’d like an extraction.”

            “That’s going to cost extra.” Barney warned her.

            She scoffed at him. “That’s ridiculous.” She said.

            “Yeah!” Doyle spoke up. “Yeah, it is ridiculous! You can’t take that from him!”

            “Quiet.” Barney growled at him. He returned his attention to the woman. “You can take him somewhere else to have it done, but you can’t get the guarantee of quality that you have with us.”

            The woman sighed. “Fine.” She said. “But the eyes better be fully intact.”

            “You don’t have to worry about a thing.” Barney told her. He took the scary-looking instrument that his associate handed him and turned back to Doyle. “This is going to hurt.” He said. Doyle squirmed as he came closer, about to morph to try to get away, though he suspected that was hopeless; Barney’s strength seemed to be equal to his own.

            The door suddenly burst open, and Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley all came storming in. Doyle was thrown to the side as everyone ran to join the fight, and hit the ground with a grunt. A moment later Wesley was at his side, untying him. “Are you hurt?” He asked.

            “No, I’m fine.” Doyle replied as he got his hands free. Wesley pulled him to his feet. “Thanks.”

            Wesley ran back to help Angel, and Doyle was about to do the same when Barney suddenly crashed into him and pinned him against the wall. “You may have ruined this sale,” he growled, “But I still want those eyes. They’re still worth a fortune.”

            Before Doyle could even react, he heard Cordelia’s voice from behind Barney. “Feel this you feeling freako!” She stabbed him in the back with the demon horn he had harvested from the earlier demon. Doyle watched as his life force was drained, and he fell to the floor, dead.

            Cordelia dropped the horn and looked at Doyle. “You okay?” She asked.

            He nodded. “Thanks.” He said.

            “Don’t mention it.” She replied. “We lost you once. We couldn’t do it again.” She held out her hand. He took it, and she pulled him away from the wall and hugged him. He closed his eyes for a moment and hugged her back. “Let’s get out of here.” She said once she stepped away, and he happily agreed.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Doyle sat next to Cordelia at Angel’s kitchen table and watched as Angel scrambled eggs at the stove. “I’m just saying the PTB could be a little more forthcoming in the future than just a picture of a statue.” Doyle said.

            “I have to agree with you on that one.” Cordelia said.

            “It worked out in the end though.” Angel pointed out, glancing back at them.

            “Barely.” Doyle muttered. “If they’re going to give me migraines, they could at least make them useful.”

            Cordelia looked at him. “So how are you doing?” She asked.

            “I told you, I’m fine.” He replied. She raised her eyebrows, and he realized that she may have meant more than just the bump on the head he’d gotten from Barney. “I’ll be okay.” He amended quietly. “I will be.” He changed the subject. “What about you? Barney didn’t get you too bad, did he?”

            “Pfft.” Cordelia dismissed. “Are you kidding? I’ve had way worse than that. I was just worried about you, you softy.” Doyle laughed in spite of himself, and Cordelia grinned. “There it is.” She said.

            “What?”

            “Your real smile. The genuine one. I was starting to miss it.” She said.

            He looked away, the smile still tugging at his lips. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Princess.”

            “Uh huh.” Cordelia said, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you don’t.”

            Wesley walked in, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Well, I’ll be off then.” He said. “Farewell, Angel. Who knows when our paths will cross again?”

            “Wesley.” Angel said. They shook hands.

            “Do you even know where you’re headed?” Cordelia asked.

            “Rogue demon hunters rarely do.” Wesley said dramatically. Doyle and Cordelia caught each other’s eyes and had to fight their grins. “Wherever evil lurks, wherever dark forces threaten humanity, that’s where I’ll be.”

            “Well, good luck to ya.” Doyle said as he gratefully took a glass of orange juice from Angel. “And thanks again for helping save me. It was good to meet you.”

            “You as well.” Wesley told him.

            “Keep in touch.” Cordelia said.

            “Yes, yes, I will.” Wesley said. “But now, the evil lurking everywhere bids me onwards. So…I go.”

            “Take care!” Cordelia said.

            “Enjoy the demon hunting.” Doyle added.

            “Yes.” Wesley said. He started to leave, then turned back around. “No rest for the wicked fighters. Through storm and rain. Heat. Famine. Deep, painful, gnawing hunger…I go.”

            “Breakfast?” Angel offered as he started serving the eggs onto plates.

            “Ooh!” Wesley said enthusiastically, dropping his stuff. “I suppose so!” He sat down at the end of the table, on Cordelia’s other side. Angel handed everyone a plate.

            “One of the job advantages.” Cordelia explained. “After a night of fighting evil, we get eggs.”

            “They look delicious.” Wesley said.

            “For someone who doesn’t eat, he’s a surprisingly good cook.” Cordelia said.

            “He is, yeah.” Doyle agreed. “Way better than me.”

            “I believe that.” Cordelia said.

            “I’m not _terrible_.” Doyle said defensively. “Just not…fantastic.”

            “I’d save that argument for another day, if I were you.” Angel told him as he sat down at the other end of the table, next to him. “Quit while you’re ahead.”

            “Wise man.” Cordelia said with a nod.

            Doyle looked around at the others as they all started eating, his eyes lingering on Cordelia for a moment. Then he smiled and took a bite of his own breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! Thank you!


	3. Somnambulist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not totally pleased with this one, but it turned out okay.

“Listen up, buddy.” Cordelia said. She sat down on the edge of her desk a leaned forward. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve given me some answers.”

            Doyle, sitting in the chair in front of her, replied, “I have no idea what you mean.”

            “Oh yes you do.” Cordelia went on. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to track you down.”

            Doyle leaned forward in his chair, playing along. “Now see here, Princess,” She raised her eyebrows, and he corrected himself. “I mean, Miss. Now see here, Miss, I had nothing to do with that accident. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

            “Oh, accident, was it?” She asked.

            “That’s right, accident.”

            “I don’t believe for a second it was any accident.” Cordelia said. “Confess to what you did, and my boss may take pity on you.”

            “I’m not confessing to anything.” Doyle said.

            “Confess!” Cordelia cried.

            “What are you two doing?”

            They both quickly stood up and turned to see Wesley coming through the front office door. “Wesley, hi!” Cordelia said. “Doyle was just helping me with my interrogation techniques!”

            “I must have impersonated every demonic delinquent in L.A. by now.” Doyle said.

            “I see.” Wesley said. He was holding a large folder. “I thought that since we’re all going to be hunting demons, it would be beneficial for us to compare notes. And I thought maybe you’d need help fighting some sort of evil!”

            “We seem to be fresh out of evil right now.” Doyle said. “It’s been pretty quiet.”

            Wesley’s face fell slightly. “Really?”

            “I’m interrogating Doyle about fictional crimes. How busy could we possibly be?” Cordelia pointed out, sitting down at her desk.

            “Right.” Wesley conceded. “Oh, I also brought your mail, and your newspaper.” He pulled out a stack of papers from behind the folder and handed them to Cordelia.

            “Thanks.” She said.

            “So how goes the rogue demon hunting business?” Doyle asked Wesley.

            “Oh, very well, very well.” Wesley said hurriedly. “Of course, as you said, things have been quiet lately.” Doyle nodded, trying to mask his smirk with a serious expression. “Still,” Wesley continued, raising his head high and straightening out his jacket, “The life of a rogue demon hunter is never truly quiet. I must be ready for action at any moment. My job is to be prepared and observant.”

            “This isn’t our mail.” Cordelia said suddenly. She had been going through the stack of mail that Wesley had given her.

            “It isn’t?” Wesley asked, sounding both confused and disappointed.

            Doyle picked up the newspaper and looked at it. “Yeah, it’s not our paper either.” He said.

            Cordelia handed the mail back to Wesley. “It’s the dentist office next door, see?”

            Wesley sighed with exasperation as he snatched the newspaper back from Doyle. “In my defense, your mail system out there is very confusing.” He said.

            “Sure, yeah.” Doyle said with a straight face, nodding. “Taking the stuff from the box with our address. Awful difficult.”

            “Laugh all you want, but…” Wesley trailed off as he looked at the newspaper he had taken from Doyle. Something seemed to have caught his attention.

            Cordelia looked up when she realized that he had stopped speaking. “Wesley?” She asked.

            “Something wrong?” Doyle asked, frowning.

            “I…have to go.” Wesley said slowly, starting to back out of the office. “I just remembered, I have something important to do.” He turned and hurried out the door.

            Doyle watched him go. “Strange fella, isn’t he?”

            “He’s always been like that.” Cordelia dismissed, turning her attention to her computer. “He was even more uptight back in Sunnydale, if you can believe that. I can’t believe I used to find him attractive.”

            That got Doyle’s attention, all questions he had about Wesley’s behavior slipping his mind. “You used to what?”

            “I used to have kind of a thing for Wesley. Oh, I shudder to think of it now, trust me.” Cordelia said lightly. She clearly hadn’t noticed the effect her words were having on her co-worker.

            “Right.” Doyle said. Then, as casually as he could, he asked, “But nothing ever actually happened, did it?”

            “We kissed once.” She replied.

            “You kissed that guy?” Doyle cried, jealousy that he knew was probably undeserved rushing through him.

            “Oh, relax.” Cordelia said, looking up. “It’s not like…hi Angel.”

            Doyle turned around to see Angel lingering in the doorway of his office, looking tired despite having just gotten up. “Hey man.” Doyle said. He frowned. “Rough night?”

            “Morning, more like.” Cordelia said. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” She looked him over. “Doyle’s right, though, you look half dead. Which, for someone who’s completely dead, would be kind of neat.”

            “Did you get anything on that license plate?” Angel asked Cordelia.

            Doyle’s frown deepened. Angel was never exactly one of the most social people in the world, but this behavior seemed extreme even for him. What was going on? “Sorry.” Cordelia said. “I couldn’t find anything. Maybe you should run it by Kate. She could probably help you.”

            “I agree.” Doyle said. “Kate’s your best bet. Plus getting out a little might be good for you.” He added.

            Angel sighed. “Okay.” He said. He took the note with the license plate number written on it from Cordelia. “I’ll be back later.” He started walking towards the door.

            Doyle quickly said, “Oh, you don’t want to-“

            Cordelia began, “Angel-“

            Angel opened the door, and jumped back as the sunlight burned him. He turned around to look at his two concerned employees. “I’ll take the tunnels.” He said, and started back into his office.

            “Do you want me to come?” Doyle asked.

            “No, I’ll do it myself.” Angel called over his shoulder as he walked away.

            “Looks like you’ve been rejected.” Cordelia said, looking at Doyle. “I get the sense that’s a feeling that you’re used to.”

            “Oh, hardy-har-har.” Doyle said sarcastically. Then he grew more serious and asked, “You worried about him?”

            “Angel? I don’t know.” She replied. “You think we should be?”

            Doyle glanced briefly in the direction Angel had disappeared in. “I hope not.” He said.

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            “Hey, Cordy,” Doyle said as he walked into the font from Angel’s office, “Do you think we should…?” He trailed off when he realized she wasn’t alone. “Wesley? What are you doing here?”

            “Is Angel here?” Wesley asked him urgently.

            “Uh, no, I don’t think he’s here yet.” Doyle replied. “What’s going on?”

            “He being weird.” Cordelia said dismissively, rolling her eyes.

            “Remember when I was here earlier?” Wesley asked. “Something from the paper caught my eye.” He held out a newspaper clipping, which Cordelia took. Doyle came to read it over her shoulder. It was an article about another body being found with a cross carved into the cheek, which, the article stated, was one of several that had been recovered over the past few weeks.

            “So?” Cordelia asked, looking up at Wesley again. “Not exactly front page news.”

            “Actually that is the front page.” Wesley said. “But that’s not the point.”

            “Look, this is awful and all, but I’m still not sure why you found it so important that you’re bringing it to us.” Doyle said.

            Wesley hesitated, looking at them both. “I perhaps you should sit down.” He said finally.

            “Why?” Cordelia asked, frowning.

            “Please, just sit down.” Wesley grabbed each of them by the arm and sat them down on the couch, turning to face them. “When I was in Sunnydale, I took an interest in Angel’s past activities, due to his uncomfortable proximity to the Slayer.”

            “He seemed pretty comfortable to me.” Cordelia muttered.

            Wesley picked up a thick file from the desk and held it up so that they could see it. The label said “Angel” in big letters. “When I saw that news story this morning it rang chillingly familiar, so I dug into my old notes, and I found this.” He opened the file to a certain page and handed it to them. Doyle took it and held it out for both him and Cordelia to read. His heart skipped a beat when he realized what it was. It was a record of murders just like the ones from the newspaper, all committed by Angelus. “I reacquainted myself with certain facts,” Wesley continued, “Confirming, I’m sorry to say, my grim suspicions. In the late 1700s, it was Angelus’ custom to sign his victims by carving a Christian cross into their left cheek. He liked to let people know he’d been there.”

            Doyle took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express how he felt at that moment, but Cordelia got there first, looking just as angry as he felt as she took the file from him and got to her feet, handing it back to Wesley. “Okay.” She said. “You get to leave now. You’re not going to come in here and accuse Angel like this.”

            “Cordelia,” Wesley began.

            Doyle found his voice. “No, she’s right.” He said angrily, standing up as well. “This is Angel’s office you’re standing in, and he’s our friend. And I daresay he’s done more good for people than any of us have, especially you. So don’t you _dare_ come in here and throw around accusations about my friend and expect me to listen. He’s not that person anymore. That was Angelus. He’s Angel, and he would never do anything like this.”

            “Yeah!” Cordelia said. “Tell him, Doyle!” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Wesley. Doyle felt a rush of gratitude for the woman standing next to him. For a moment, they were united, the Angel Investigations team defending their boss, together, showing solidarity.

            Then Angel’s voice came from the doorway of his office, making everyone jump; no one had noticed him come in. “Wesley’s right.” He said.

            Cordelia turned to Wesley. “You stake him and I’ll cut his head off.”

            So much for solidarity. Doyle grabbed her arm to keep her from doing anything, and then turned to Angel. “What do you mean, he’s right? You didn’t do this!” He picked up the newspaper clipping and waved it in the air, looking at his friend earnestly. “Angel, tell me you didn’t do this.”

            Angel took the clipping from him and looked at it for a moment. “I have no memory of doing any of these things.” He said finally.

            “Not exactly the confidence-inspiring denial I was hoping for.” Cordelia said.

            “I’ve been having dreams.” Angel said.

            “Dreams?” Wesley repeated.

            “Killing dreams.” Angel clarified. “Always the same.”

            “You mean of the old days.” Doyle said. “The Angelus days.”

            “Like that, but not memories. New kills.”

            Doyle swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay. So you’ve been having nightmares. Who doesn’t from time to time?”

            “They’re not nightmares.” Angel said. “I’ve enjoyed them.”

            “…oh.” Doyle said. He sat down on the couch again. This wasn’t good. If he was slipping back into Angelus…that wasn’t something that Doyle was prepared for. Was that why the PTB had brought him back? To deal with the return of his friend’s vicious alter-ego?

            “And you fear that these might be more than just dreams?” Wesley asked Angel. “That you’re acting them out in some sort of hypnagogic state?” Angel nodded.

            Cordelia frowned, confused. “Hypnawugic?”

            “Sleepwalking.” Wesley explained.

            Doyle looked up. “Can that happen?” He asked. “I mean, I sleepwalked straight into my bedroom wall once, but could it actually go so far as acting out the murders in his dreams?”

            “It’s possible.” Wesley said.

            “There’s only one way to find out.” Angel said.

**000000000ooooooo000000000**

            Doyle finished tying down Angel’s right arm to the bed with a chain and stepped back. They were chaining him to his bed, and they would spend the night watching him. “How’s that?” He asked.

            Angel tested it trying to move his arm. “Good.” He said.

            Doyle nodded. “This is a good plan.” He said. He looked at Angel. “For the record, I don’t believe it was you.” He said.

            The look on Angel’s face made it clear that he did not share Doyle’s confidence. “We’ll know soon enough.” He said.

            Cordelia was finishing chaining Angel's legs, with some help from Wesley. “You’ve got to make it tight.” Wesley was saying.

            Cordelia made a noise. “Like I need instructions from you.” She said, pushing him away. “My glamorous LA life. I get to make the coffee _and_ chain the boss to the bed!” She straightened up and shook her head. “I need to join a union.”

            “Think they have demon hunter unions?” Doyle asked as he walked over to join her.

            “Sadly, I doubt it.” She replied.

            Doyle nodded in agreement. Then he asked, “Think we could start one?” He swore that he almost got her to smile.

            Wesley looked the bed over. “I think that should be satisfactory.” He said.

            “So now what?” Cordelia asked.

            Doyle sighed. “Now we wait.” He said.

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            “Do you have any 3s?” Cordelia asked.

            Doyle looked at his cards and shook his head. “Go fish.” He told her.

            It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Angel was fast asleep, still chained to the bed. He had not moved all night so far. They had been taking watch in shifts, with two of them on guard duty and one of them sleeping on Angel’s couch. Cordelia and Doyle were on their fifth game of Go Fish when Wesley walked in, yawning. “I’m awake.” He said sleepily. “Any problems?”

            “Not a peep from tall, dark, and broody over there.” Cordelia said. “But I think I’m about to go insane.”

            Doyle looked up at her. “How do you think I feel?” He asked. “I’m the one that hasn’t slept at all yet.”

            “Speaking of which,” Wesley said, “It’s your turn. Cordelia and I will keep watch until morning.”

            “Okay.” Doyle sighed. He handed Cordelia his playing cards and stood up, giving his chair to Wesley. “Hey, are there any of those donuts left in the kitchen?”

            “A few, I believe.” Wesley replied.

            “Great.” Doyle said. He headed to the kitchen. Wesley paused for a moment, and then followed him.

            “Doyle,” He said hesitantly as Doyle got a glazed donut out of the box, “I realize that everything seems to be going well, but even so, I think we ought to discuss what happens if it turns out Angel is responsible for these murders.”

            Doyle paused, and then turned around to face him. “I’d really prefer not to have this discussion.” He said.

            “I know.” Wesley said. “None of us want to have this discussion. But I think it’s necessary. Just in case. We don’t want to be caught off guard if-“

            “If Angel turns out to be slipping back into his soulless-vampire-serial-killer ways?” Doyle finished for him. “I know what you’ll want to do.” Wesley looked away, not meeting his eyes. “Hell, I know what he’s going to want to do if he finds out he’s killing people in his sleep. As for me, I don’t think it’s him. So I guess I don’t have much of an opinion.”

            He tried to walk away, but Wesley caught his arm. “You’re blinded by your friendship for him.” He said. “I sympathize, I do. I like Angel. I don’t want him to be responsible. But I can’t ignore the possibility that he might be.”

            Doyle took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from losing his temper. “I think we have to give him the benefit of the doubt.” He said. “I think he’s earned that. People can change. Haven’t all of us changed?” He gestured around to Wesley, Cordelia in the next room (who was clearly listening), and himself. “Can any of us honestly say that we’re the person we were a few years ago?” Wesley said nothing. “I know I can’t.” Doyle said. “The days of Angelus were long ago. And I have enough faith in Angel to believe that they’re not coming back any time soon. Even if he doesn’t have that kind of faith in himself.” He left the kitchen without another word and lay down on the couch. Neither of the other two disturbed him as he fell asleep.

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            _“The good fight, yeah? You never know until you’ve been tested. I get that now.”_

_“Too bad we’ll never know…”_

_“Doyle!”_

_The excruciating, white-hot burning that shot through him, seeping into his brain…_

            “Doyle?”

            Doyle jumped awake at the feeling of someone’s hand on his shoulder. He was still lying on Angel’s couch, and Wesley was standing over him, looking at him with mild concern. Doyle sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I’m awake.” He said.

            “Are you alright?” Wesley asked. “You’re awfully pale.”

            “Yeah, I’m fine.” Doyle replied.

            Wesley frowned. “Doyle,” He said, speaking gently now, “Cordelia told me about what happened when you were facing the Scourge. That’s quite an ordeal for a person to go through. If you ever need-“

            “I’m fine, Wesley.” Doyle interrupted. He got to his feet. “It’s passed dawn now, yeah? How did we do?”

            “Fine.” Wesley said, apparently deciding it was best to just move on. “Angel was here all night. Cordelia is waking him up now. And, um,” He handed Doyle a newspaper, “I just picked this up a few minutes ago.”

            Doyle looked at the paper. The front page story was all about the murders. Specifically, the newest murder. Doyle grinned at Wesley before hurrying past him and into Angel’s bedroom. “There was another murder!” He cried, holding it up for Angel and Cordelia to see. “They found another body early this morning! This is great!” He received looks from both Cordelia and Wesley (who had followed him), and quickly amended, “I mean, it’s terrible. Just awful. But it’s great for you!”

            “He’s right.” Cordelia said, turning to Angel, who was sitting up on his bed now, the chains having been removed. “You were here all night.”

            “There’s no way you could be responsible.” Doyle said.

            “I am responsible.” Angel said quietly.

            Doyle’s face fell. “Oh, come on!” He cried in disbelief. “How could you possibly still be responsible?”

            “I didn’t kill these people.” Angel said. “But I made the guy who did.”

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            “So you think this Penn guy is the one who’s killing all these people?” Doyle asked.

            Angel nodded. “I know he is.” He said quietly. The four of them had gathered in Angel’s living room, where Angel had told them the story of the vampire he had sired during his Angelus days, Penn, who he had taught to kill just the way he did, with the cross carved into the cheek and all.

            “It would make sense.” Wesley said. “If he is in LA that would explain the dreams. A vampire always has a special bond with their sire.”

            “Okay,” Cordelia said, “But this is good, right? I mean, we know who the killer is now. All we have to do is dust him.”

            “We have to find him first.” Doyle pointed out.

            “I’m worried about Kate.” Angel said. “She has no idea what she’s dealing with.”

            Wesley looked at him with slight alarm. “You’re not thinking of telling her?” He asked.

            “What else can I do?” Angel replied.

            That wasn’t good. Doyle knew that is could never be as simple as just warning her about Penn. If she opened that door, it was only a matter of time before she learned the rest of it. He had nothing against Kate, but just the thought of telling her the truth made him nervous. The stomach turning, jittery kind of nervous. He glanced at Wesley before saying, “I don’t know, man. I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. There’s sort of a reason we don’t exactly advertise these things.”

            “I agree.” Wesley said. “Telling Detective Lockley might not be the best idea.”

            “What am I supposed to do?” Angel demanded. “Just let her die?”

            “We can protect her.” Doyle said. “That’s what we do, isn’t it?”

            Angel shook his head. “She needs to know what she’s up against.” He said firmly.

            Doyle took a deep breath. “There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of this, is there?” He asked. Angel shook his head, and he sighed. “Just promise me you’ll think this through before you do anything.”

            “Relax.” Cordelia told him. “It’s not like he’s going to tell her you’re half-demon.”

            Doyle looked at her, surprised. “That’s not what this is about.” He said indignantly.

            “Isn’t it?” She asked.

            “No!” He insisted. “Of course not!”

            “Enough.” Angel interrupted. “This is my decision. And I’m going to help Kate. The only way to protect her is to warn her.”

**000000000ooooooo000000000**

            Angel had given Penn’s picture to Kate, which had led to an unsuccessful confrontation between him and Angel and Kate. Doyle had not been present himself, but from what he understood, Angel had set Kate on the path of discovering vampires, but was understandably resistant to the idea. They had bigger problems than Kate’s lack of belief in the supernatural, however. Penn was still out there, and now he knew about Angel. Which meant that they had to find him, and they had to do it fast.

            Doyle had spent the day meeting with his contacts across the city, trying to find any word of Penn’s whereabouts. This endeavor had proved frustratingly unhelpful. By the time he made it back to the office that afternoon, he was tired, hungry, and deeply annoyed. He was just walking up to the front door of their building when he heard someone call his name, and turned around to see Wesley coming up behind him.

            “Did you have any luck?” Wesley asked as he reached him.

            Doyle shook his head. “Nothing. No one seems to know anything about our Angelus protégé vampire. If they do, they’re not talking. What about you?”

            “Only dead ends, I’m afraid.” Wesley sighed. “Perhaps Angel and Cordelia have had more luck.”

            “I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” Doyle muttered.

            Together they made their way to the office. Wesley walked in first, with Doyle at his heels. “No sign of Penn.” Wesley said. He was suddenly grabbed by a man standing in the middle of the room, just outside of a pool of sunlight that was shining through from the window, as the blinds had been raised. Angel and Cordelia were standing on the other side of the patch of sunlight. Doyle stumbled back as Wesley was grabbed, hitting the door, and saw that it was Penn. “Probably because he’s here and has me by the throat.” Wesley grunted.

            “What are you going to do now, Angelus?” Penn asked.

            “Let him go, Penn.” Angel said seriously, but he couldn’t pass through the sunlight to go save Wesley. So Doyle acted, and jumped at Penn from behind, knocking Wesley out of his grip and him into the sunlight. Doyle himself hit the floor as well, next to the vampire, who growled and jumped back as smoke started rising from him.

            “This isn’t over.” He warned Angel. Then he ran out of the office.

            Doyle groaned, rolling onto his back. His arm was throbbing. Cordelia closed the blinds, and she and Angel ran over to him and Wesley. “Are you guys okay?” Angel asked.

            “I’m fine.” Wesley said breathlessly, sitting up. He looked at Doyle. “I believe I owe you my life. Thank you.”

            “Don’t mention it.” Doyle sighed, sitting up as well with the help of Cordelia. Angel examined his arm, and Doyle looked and saw that something had slashed through his sleeve, and there was blood.

            “Looks like he got you.” Angel said. “It’s just a scratch. We’ll patch you up, you’ll be fine.”

            “What about Penn?” Doyle asked. “Seems like he’s awful keen to make this personal.”

            Angel nodded. “I have to figure out his next move.”

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            Cordelia had brought Doyle downstairs to Angel’s apartment in order to bandage his arm. They had been sitting in silence for a while when Doyle looked at her and finally spoke. “You’re getting pretty good at this.” He said, referring to her bandaging work.

            “Yeah, well, between this place and Sunnydale, I’ve had plenty of practice.” She replied. After a moment she said, “That was brave, what you did for Wesley.”

            He grinned at her. “Yeah? You think so?”

            She rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.” She told him.

            “Oh, no. Never.” He replied. He saw her smile slightly. “Thanks for fixing up my arm, though.”

            “No problem.” She said. Then she said, “Look, yesterday, I wasn’t trying to call you out for not wanting Kate to know that you’re half-demon. I was just trying to say that I know keeping that a secret is a big deal to you, and Angel knows that too, and he wasn’t going to just spill your secret.”

            “What makes you think it’s so important to me?” Doyle asked.

            She gave him a look. “Please.” She said. “You didn’t tell me for months that you were half-demon. In fact, you never technically told me. I found out from someone else. And, just an FYI, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m still talking to you, even after that revelation.”

            “Not everyone is like you.” Doyle said quietly.

            “Oh, there’s no one like me.” Cordelia said, and he smiled. She smiled back. “But I think you’ll find half-demon acceptance is not one of my totally unique traits.”

            “I wish I had that confidence.” Doyle admitted. “But I think you’ll find it will still put a lot of people off. Besides, you can’t act as though finding out I’m half-demon hasn’t affected our relationship at all.”

            This may have been the wrong thing to say. She pulled back, frowning at him. “I’m not upset with you because you’re half-demon, Doyle.” She said. “I’m mad at you because you lied to me about it. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me-“

            “Trust had nothing to do with it!” Doyle cried.

            “Then what did?” Cordelia demanded. “You lied to me for months.”

            “I didn’t lie, I just left some stuff out.” Doyle reasoned. “I mean, I never told you I _wasn’t_ half-demon.”

            “Oh, how old are you? Ten?” Cordelia scoffed. “Welcome to the real world, Doyle. Lying by omission is still lying. And then you go and you pull that stunt-“

            “You think that me dying was a stunt?” Doyle cried, starting to get angry himself now.

            “No, but I think the theatrics leading up to the dying was a stunt!”

            Doyle hesitated, realizing he didn’t exactly have an argument for that. There was some truth to it; he’d been about to die, and wanted to make the most of his last few moments. “It’s not like you didn’t know how I felt about you.” He said finally. “Besides, you can’t act like you didn’t feel anything. You asked me to dinner only a couple of minutes before it happened.”

            “Only because I felt sorry for you!” She shot back at him. “I thought to myself, ‘wow, he couldn’t tell me the truth about his demon side for months, he must be so insecure, I should go out with him once just to boost his self-confidence’. Clearly I was wrong. My mistake.”

            Doyle had to admit, that one hurt a little bit. “I don’t want your pity.” He said.

            “Well you don’t have it.” Cordelia retorted.

            “Good!”

            “Good!”

            “Fine!”

            “Fine!”

            Cordelia got up and stomped out of the room. Doyle sighed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “Yep.” He said. “I handled that real well.”

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Angel broke down the door of the apartment belonging to Penn, and Doyle and Wesley hurried inside, weapons drawn. “I invite you in!” Wesley said, gesturing to Angel to enter.

            Angel walked in. “Thanks, but you don’t have to.” He said.

            “The home of another vampire is fair game.” Doyle explained. “Plus, it’s not your home. Use your head. I thought you used to be a Watcher.” Wesley cast him a dismayed glance.

            They walked further into the apartment, and found themselves in front of a table covered with notes and plans. “Good lord.” Wesley said, looking at the papers spread across the table.

            Doyle picked up one of the papers and looked it over. “A bus schedule.” He said, turning to Angel. In response, Angel picked up a photo and showed it to him. It was a picture of a school bus. A nauseous feeling suddenly washed over Doyle as he realized what it meant, and he swallowed back bile. “A school bus full of kids.” He said.

            “Oh god.” Wesley said softly.

            Doyle dropped the papers and turned around. “Come on.” He said. “We have to stop him. You need to warn Kate.” He added to Angel, who was following him. “Do you think she’ll listen to you?”

            “I have to try.” Angel said. Things with Kate had not gone so great. She had done her research, and accepted the reality of what Penn was. Unfortunately, she had also discovered who Angel was, and had basically completely rejected him. She had made it pretty clear that she had no interest in allying with a vampire.

            Doyle looked at Angel as they left the apartment, heading back towards Angel’s car, Wesley trailing behind them. “You’re taking this all very well.” He observed.

            “Something’s not right.” Angel said.

            “He’s going to kill a bus full of children.” Doyle said. “Yeah, I’d say something’s not right.”

            “Not, it’s not that.” Angel said. “This isn’t his style.”

            “You said he threatened to try something new.” Doyle said. “This is something new.”

            “Penn’s not this original.” Angel insisted. “I have a hard time believing his would change this radically.”

            Doyle paused and looked at him as they got outside. “Do you think it’s a setup?” He asked.

            “I think you were right about telling Kate.” Angel replied. “Let’s go to the police station.”

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            Doyle and Wesley were left sitting in the car, waiting to Angel to return from inside the police station. Doyle was in the driver’s seat, while Wesley was sitting in the back. Wesley leaned forward to speak to Doyle up front. “Doyle,” He said, “I know it’s not my place, and I don’t mean to pry-“

            “And yet, I have a feeling that’s what’s about to happen.” Doyle muttered under her breath.

            Wesley continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “But I want you to know that there’s nothing between Cordelia and me.”

            Doyle twisted him is seat to look back at him, surprised. “What?”

            “It came to my attention that she mentioned something to you about our time together in Sunnydale.” Wesley said. “And I assure you that it was a brief attraction that led to nothing more than one kiss shared between the two of us, at which time we both agreed there was nothing there. I am still quite fond of her, but only as a friend, I promise you.”

            “Why are you telling me this?” Doyle asked.

            “I wanted to assure you that you don’t have to worry about me interfering.” Wesley told him. “I know how you feel about her.”

            “Who said I have feelings for Cordy?” Doyle asked, knowing even as he spoke how flimsy a lie that was.

            Wesley gave him a look. “Please, it’s obvious. I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

            Their conversation was interrupted as Angel got back into the car. “He’s not going about a school bus.” He said. “That was a diversion. We need to follow the police.” He pulled a blanket off of a bundle that he set down between his knees. It was a police scanner.

            “Where did you get that?” Doyle asked as he started the car.

            “A police car.” Angel replied.

            “Oh.” Doyle said, and they drove off.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Angel had gone in alone to fight Penn, leaving Doyle and Wesley in the car. He had returned with a stab wound through his abdomen and covered with dust. From what they had managed to get from him during the drive back to the office, he had confronted Penn while he was fighting Kate. Ultimately, it was Kate who killed Penn. She’d had the opportunity to kill Angel too, but she hadn’t taken it, which Doyle took as a good sign.

            Doyle climbed up the stairs, rubbing his head, and pushed open the door that led onto the roof. Angel was sitting on the ledge, looking out at the dark night sky. “Hey.” Doyle said, walking over to join him. He glanced at him, but didn’t otherwise react. “I just had one of those head-splitting visions, in case you’re interested.” Doyle continued. “Cordy’s downstairs researching the demon I saw.”

            “How are things with you and Cordy?” Angel asked, quietly but sincerely.

            Doyle sighed. “We may have taken another step backward.” He said. “I don’t want to talk about it. How are you doing?”

            It was Angel’s turn to sigh. “I can’t shake the feeling that I’m responsible for all those people’s deaths.” He said.

            “You’re not responsible.” Doyle said firmly. “Penn killed them. Not you.”

            “I made Penn.” Angel said.

            “Angelus made Penn. You’re not him.”

            It was a moment before Angel spoke again. “Those dreams, Doyle…I enjoyed them. I really did.”

            “You’re a vampire.” Doyle said. “It’s instinct. So you have a dark side. We all do. What’s important is what you act on. It’s your actions that define you. Angelus killed people. But you save people. That’s what matters. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe in you, Angel. People change.”

            “You’re right.” Angel said. “They do. And sometimes, they change back. If that ever happens-“

            “I’ll let Cordelia kill you.” Doyle said. “Immediately, and without hesitation.”

            Angel looked at him in surprise. “Thanks.” He said.

            Doyle smiled at him. “Eh, that’s what friends are for.” He said. He turned around and started back downstairs, and he heard Angel follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated.


	4. Expecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry this took so long to update. The new semester has kept me busy, so I haven’t had quite as much time to write. Add to that the fact that these chapters get fairly long, and I like to spend time on them and get them right. I’m trying to get back into it.

            Cordelia checked her reflection in the office window and started applying her lipstick. “You look nice.” A voice said. She jumped, her hand slipping, and turned around to Angel standing right behind her.

            “You mean I look like the Joker.” Cordelia groaned when she glanced at her reflection again and saw the line of lipstick on her cheek. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped it off. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

            “Sorry.” Angel said. “Why are you so dressed up?”

            “I have a date.” Cordelia said matter-of-factly.

            Angel’s face fell slightly. “A date?” He asked.

            “Yeah.” She said. She saw his expression, and sighed. “What?”

            “Nothing.” He replied. “I just…I kind of thought you and Doyle…”

            “I don’t owe Doyle anything.” Cordelia said, an icy edge to her voice. “He and I are nothing to each other. Just friends. Not even friends, really. Just co-workers.” Angel nodded, but he looked visibly disappointed. He had been routing for his friends, because he believed they might truly have a shot at being happy together. They deserved that. A couple of seconds later, Cordelia added, “Besides, how else am I supposed to make him jealous?”

            A small smile returned to Angel’s face. “Oh. I see.” He said.

            “Don’t you dare say a word to him.” Cordelia added, pointing at Angel threateningly.

            “I won’t.” He said. “I promise.”

            “Promise what?” Doyle asked as he entered the office.

            Angel hesitated, and Cordelia saved him. “He promises not to give my boyfriend the third-degree. Not that you’ll ever meet him.” She added. “Like I’d bring him to this place.”

            She might as well have stabbed him the chest. “Oh.” He said. “Right. Of course.”

            Cordelia turned away so he couldn’t see her face, trying not to look too pleased at his wounded expression (though she also felt a stab of guilt deep in her chest; she quickly tried to dismiss that, reasoning that she would find a way to make it up to him later). “I’m off soon, so it looks like you two are going to be alone tonight.”

            The door opened, and Wesley walked, carrying an axe with one hand and a box tucked under his other arm. “Hello.” He said.

            “Or you’ll have him.” Cordelia amended.

            “Hey Wesley.” Doyle said, his eyes not moving from Cordelia.

            “What are you doing here?” Angel asked.

            “I was just in the neighborhood, patrolling with my new Bavarian fighting ax,” Wesley said, “When I suddenly thought, ‘perhaps Doyle has had a vision.’ Perhaps you need my help in the battle against evil.”

            “We seem to be evil-free at the moment.” Angel told him.

            “Yeah, sorry man.” Doyle said, finally turning to face Wesley. “Although, considering how painful they are, I’m really not that sorry.”

            “Oh.” Wesley’s face fell. Then he brightened again. “I also packed along a word-puzzle 3D.” He said, showing them all the box he was carrying. “If any of you have the nerve to take me on.”

            “Gee, Wesley, I’d love to.” Cordelia said sarcastically. “But unlike you, I’m not in my eighties quite yet.” Doyle snorted with laughter.

            Wesley looked at her reproachfully. “If shaking your booty at the latest trendy hotspot is your idea of a life, then call me…” He trailed off the door to the office opened again, and this time two beautiful women, presumably Cordelia’s friends, walked in. “…sick with envy.” Wesley finished in a daze.

            One of the women looked at him. “Hi. I’m Serena. Nice ax.”

            Wesley laughed nervously. “Oh, this old thing?” He tried to wave it casually, and accidently embedded it in the wall. He looked around the room, embarrassed, and Doyle gave him a thumbs up.

            Serena and the other woman both gave him a strange look before moving on to Cordelia. “We’re late.” She said. “Wilson practically had to have phone sex with the manager just to get us in.”

            “How do I look?” Cordelia asked excitedly, spinning around so her full outfit could be seen.

            “Stunning as always.” Serena replied with a smile. Doyle silently agreed. “Wilson won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

            “Who’s Wilson?” Doyle asked, trying as hard as he could to sound casual.

            Serena began to answer, but Cordelia cut her off. “He’s a highly successful photographer, if you just have to know, and the important thing is that I’ve been seeing him. And no, I haven’t told you guys about him, because, as we covered, I’m ashamed of you and you’ll both give him the third-degree.”

            “Your boss can give me the third-degree anytime.” The other woman said, smiling at Angel.

            Doyle looked at her resentfully. “Hey, how do you know I’m not the…oh…” He started to convulse suddenly as pain shot through his temple.

            The others all jumped into action immediately. Angel knocked some papers off the desk. “Hey, Doyle, pick those up for me.” He said as Doyle hit the ground. Angel, Wesley, and Cordelia quickly assembled around him, blocking him from view.

            Doyle was overcome with images of a large, slimy, disgusting demon. He took a deep breath as the images finally stopped and the real world slowly returned. He caught the end of Angel and Wesley babbling to divert attention as he gathered the papers from the floor and got to his feet. He grabbed a pen from Cordelia’s desk and scribbled down the address the demon was at before he forgot it.

            Cordelia turned around to face him and glanced at what he wrote. “Is that where you’re meeting the client tonight?” She asked.

            He nodded. “Yeah.”

            “Are you guys going to be okay meeting him on your own?” She asked him seriously.

            “We should be fine.” He replied, massaging his temples.

            She looked at him hesitantly. “Do you need anything before I leave?” She asked.

            He managed to give her a smile. “No. I’ll be fine. You can go.”

            “We’ll take care of everything.” Angel told Cordelia.

            Cordelia nodded and turned back to her friends, grabbing her bag off her desk as she did so. “Okay.” She said, walking over to usher them out the door. “Are my girls ready to party?”

            After they were gone, Angel and Wesley both turned to Doyle. “You okay?” Angel asked.

            He nodded. “I’m fine.” He handed Angel the scrap of paper that he had written the address on. “It’s big, and it’s pissed off.” He said. “We should go now.”

            “Sounds good.” Angel said. He looked at Wesley. “You want to come?”

            Wesley’s face brightened. “May I?”

            “Sure.” Angel said.

            Doyle nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.” He said. “And the more the merrier. Right, Wesley?”

            “My thoughts exactly.” Wesley said enthusiastically. He went over and tried to pull his ax out of the wall, but it didn’t budge. He pulled again, but still nothing. He tugged last time, and this time it came out of the wall, and Wesley fell on his back.

            Doyle couldn’t help but laugh, despite the combined bitterness from learning of Cordelia’s date and lingering pain from his vision. “Rogue demon hunter. I’m seeing it now.” He said sarcastically.

            “Shut up.” Wesley said tiredly as he got to his feet. “I believe we have work to do.”

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

**The Next Morning**

            “Rather late, aren’t you?”

            Doyle looked up in surprise at the voice he heard when he entered the office. Wesley was sitting at the desk. “You’re not Cordelia.” Doyle said, confused.

            “Well spotted.” Wesley said.

            “What are you doing here?” Doyle asked, heading for the coffee. He desperately needed the caffeine; he felt like he was swimming through syrup.

            “I came to compare notes on some of the local demon gathering places.” Wesley explained.

            “Not that I mind seeing you again or anything,” Doyle began, turning back to Wesley, now with a full cup of coffee in his hand, “But don’t you ever have your own work to do?”

            “I do most of my work at night.” Wesley said. “That’s when the demons are most active and all. Prime hours for hunting.” Doyle nodded. “I thought I might as well do something useful with my day.”

            “Well, like we said last night, it’s been fairly quiet around here too.” Doyle said, taking a drink.

            “Yes.” Wesley agreed. Then he said, “I thought the three of us made a pretty good team last night, wouldn’t you agree?”

            Doyle nodded. The fight with the demon the night before had gone well, and he, Wesley, and Angel _had_ made a good team. “I just wish those visions would start presenting themselves at more opportune times.”

            Angel walked in from his office. “There you are.” He said, looking at Doyle.

            “I know, I know, I’m sorry.” Doyle sighed.

            Angel frowned at him. “Is everything alright?” He asked. “You’ve been showing up at work looking more tired than when you left the night before the past few days.”

            “I haven’t been sleeping well.” Doyle admitted. He kept to himself the part about it being because of the steadily worsening nightmares, however.

            Angel nodded and didn’t press him further, which he was extremely grateful for. “I don’t suppose you saw Cordelia on your way in.” Angel said.

            Doyle frowned. “Cordy’s not here?” He asked.

            “She hasn’t turned up yet either.” Angel said. “You I’m used to occasionally being late, but her…”

            “Not without giving an excuse.” Doyle agreed. “Did you call her?”

            “A few times.” Angel replied. “I’m starting to worry.”

            Wesley stood up. “You don’t think something happened to her?” He said nervously.

            Angel and Doyle exchanged glances. “Let’s give her a little more time.” Angel said finally. “If she still doesn’t show up or answer her phone, maybe we’ll go check on her.”

**000000000ooooooooo000000000**

            “She’s probably alright.” Wesley said to Doyle as they approached the door to Cordelia’s apartment. They still hadn’t heard from her, so they had finally decided to go find her.

            Doyle looked at him. “Huh?”

            “You looked worried.” Wesley explained. “I know how much Cordy means to you. I was just trying to reassure you. She’s probably okay.”

            Doyle slowly nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled. “Probably. Thanks.”

            Angel knocked the on the door. “Cordelia?” He called. “It’s us!”

            There was no response. “Maybe she’s not here.” Wesley suggested tentatively.

            Angel looked like he was about to say something when the door suddenly creaked open on its own. The three of them looked at each other in surprise. “Dennis?” Doyle asked. He went inside first, and Angel and Wesley followed him. “Dennis, where’s Cordelia?” Doyle asked.

            Obviously there was no answer from the ghost. “Cordelia?” Angel called again, looking around.

            “I’ll check the kitchen.” Doyle said. He found nothing, however. They regrouped in the hallway.

            “There’s nothing here.” Wesley sighed.

            “But if she’s not here, then where else would she…?” Doyle began, but he trailed off as the bedroom door next to them was opened by Dennis. They all looked inside, and that was when they saw Cordelia. She was lying in bed, looking like she hadn’t gotten up yet, but that wasn’t the part that alarmed them. She was also clearly nine months pregnant.

            “Cordelia?” Angel asked gently as they all slowly entered the bedroom.

            “I know how bad it looks.” She was quietly, her voice hoarse and choked with tears. She looked up at them. “I’m ready to wake up now.” She said. “I keep waiting for me to wake up.”

            Doyle could scarcely comprehend what he was seeing. This didn’t make any sense. Regardless of what must have happened the night before…which he was trying not to dwell on…how could she be so pregnant after only one night?

            “What happened?” Angel asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

            “I met Wilson at the club.” Cordelia said. “And we sat in the corner and talked. We talked for a long time…he was so nice…and he drove me home…and I invited him in…” She looked at Angel. “But it was safe. It was all really…safe…”

            She started to cry, and Doyle sat down on her other side. “Hey.” He said, and she looked at him. “We’re going to find a way to fix this.” He said firmly. “I promise.” She nodded slowly, and he gently squeezed her hand.

            Angel got up. “Doyle.” He said, and nodded towards the hall. Doyle stood up, gave Cordelia another glance that he hoped looked reassuring, and then followed him and Wesley back out into the hall.

            “We have to do something.” Doyle said. Now that the initially shock was starting to wear off, it was being replaced by anger. Anger at the person who had done this to her. “No ordinary human could have done this.” He said.

            “I agree.” Wesley said. “This has to have been some kind of demon.”

            “This isn’t what happened to my mother.” Doyle said. “At least, that’s not how she makes it sound.”

            “Well it depends on the kind of demon.” Wesley said worriedly. “This type of demon impregnation is not unheard of.”

            “That’s why I’m worried.” Angel said. “The mothers, they rarely survive.”

            Wesley looked up in horror. “And those that do wish they hadn’t.” He said.

            “Exactly.” Angel replied. Doyle closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself together.

            “If she’s that pregnant in one night, she could give birth at any moment!” Wesley continued urgently.

            Doyle opened his eyes. “We have to find this son of a bitch.” He said. He started to walk towards the door, but Angel grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

            “You’re not going anywhere.” He said.

            Doyle looked at him in disbelief. “The hell I’m not!” He cried. “What are you talking about?”

            “This is Cordelia.” Angel said simply. “We all know how you feel about her. You’re not thinking straight.”

            “You’re telling me you don’t want to catch the bastard?” Doyle demanded.

            “Of course I do.” Angel told him. “And we will. But Wesley and I will go. You’re going to stay here. You’re too emotional. You’ll just get yourself killed.”

            “I can’t just sit around and do nothing!” Doyle cried angrily.

            “You won’t be.” Angel said. “Take Cordelia to the doctor. Try to figure out what that thing is inside of her, and how she’s doing.”

            “Angel,” Doyle began desperately.

            “Doyle.” Angel countered, cutting him off. He put his hand on his shoulder. “She needs you.”

            Doyle hesitated, and glanced back over his shoulder at Cordelia. “Fine.” He said. “I’ll take care of her.”

            “Good.” Angel said with a nod. He turned to Wesley. “She’s in good hands with Doyle. You and I need to go find Wilson.”

            “Absolutely.” Wesley agreed.

            “Call us if anything changes.” Angel added to Doyle.

            “I will.” He replied. “And you call me if you learn anything.”

            Angel nodded, and he and Wesley left the apartment. Doyle took a deep breath, and returned to Cordelia’s bedroom. “Come on, Love.” He said. “Let’s find you something to wear, alright?”

            “Why?” Cordelia asked miserably.

            “I’m taking you to a doctor.” Doyle told her.

            Cordelia groaned. “Doyle, I don’t want to go anywhere.”

            “Cordy,” Doyle reached out and grabbed her hand, making her look at him, “We’re going to help you, alright? Angel and Wesley just left to go find Wilson. You know that if anyone can find him, it’s going to be them. While they’re doing that, let me take to the doctor, okay? Let me help you. Please.”

            Slowly, Cordelia nodded and sat up a little in bed. “I might…I might have some overalls that would still fit.” She said quietly.

            Doyle gave her a reassuring smile. “Perfect.” He said. “Where are they?”

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Doyle hurried back to the waiting room of the doctor’s office and sat down in the chair next to Cordelia. “I told them it was urgent.” He said.

            The woman on Cordelia’s other side frowned as she looked at her. “Oh, you’re hanging low.” She said with concern, reaching over.

            “Don’t touch me!” Cordelia shrieked, jumping closer to Doyle. The woman drew back, looking alarmed.

            Doyle put his hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “Sorry.” He told the woman. “Rough day, ya know?” He turned back to Cordelia. “You okay?” He asked gently. Slowly, she nodded.

            A nurse came out into the waiting room. “Mrs. Stevenson?” She called.

            “That’s us.” Doyle said, and helped Cordelia up, putting his arm around her as they walked over to the nurse.

            “You gave them a fake name?” Cordelia asked quietly.

            “Well, we’re a fake couple.” Doyle said, giving her a small smile. She managed to return it briefly.

            “Right this way.” The nurse told them. She led them down a hallway to an exam room. After getting Cordelia set up on the bed, she told them that the doctor would be with them in a moment, and then left them alone.

            “How are you feeling?” Doyle asked, sitting down in a chair next to the bed.

            “Terrible.” She said.

            “That’s to be expected, I guess.” He said.

            To his surprise, she reached out and curled her fingers around his. “Doyle?” She said, and he looked at her expectantly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so mean to you.” She said.

            He hadn’t expected any emotional confessions from her in this situation, and was caught off guard. “It’s alright, Princess.” He said. “You haven’t been all that bad.”

            “No, I have been, and it’s not fair to you.” Cordelia insisted. “You died – in fact you didn’t just die, you sacrificed yourself, being all noble – and it scared me, losing you for even the short time that I did, and I took it out on you. You were the one who died, and I acted like I was the one who had a right to be upset. And despite how awful I’ve been, here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sorry.”

            He squeezed her hand. “You really don’t have to be sorry.” He said. “I’m here because I care about you.”

            “I care about you too.” She told him. “I know I act like I don’t, but I do. I only went out with Wilson in the first place to make you jealous.”

            Doyle hesitated, unsure what to say. He was saved by the doctor walking in. “Mrs. Stevenson?” He asked.

            “Yes.” Cordelia said quickly, sitting up a little.

            “And you must be her husband.” The doctor said, holding out his hand to Doyle, who shook it.

            “Yes, that’s me.” He said.

            The doctor checked the chart that the nurse had given him. “Well, it looks like you’re due any day now.” He said.

            Cordelia and Doyle glanced at each other. “Yep.” They said together nervously.

            “I’d really like to get your history from your previous doctor.” The doctor went on.

            “You’re the only doctor I’ve seen.” Cordelia said. He frowned at her, confused, and Doyle quickly spoke up.

            “She means in America.” He said. “We just moved here from Ireland.”

            The doctor hesitated, and then nodded. “Lovely country.” He said. “Let’s do an ultrasound, shall we?”

            He set up the equipment and started Cordelia’s ultrasound while Doyle looked on nervously. After a few minutes, the doctor said, “Looks like you’re having twins.”

            “Twins?!” Cordelia and Doyle cried at the same time. If the doctor found it odd that they didn’t already know this, he didn’t show it, but he might have been too distracted by the ultrasound itself.

            “There’s another one.” He said in surprise. Doyle got up and walked around to the other side of Cordelia’s bed so he could look at the screen with the doctor. He eyes widened as he realized there were several more creatures appearing in the ultrasound. The doctor seemed stunned. Cordelia was looking at them with increasing alarm at the expressions on their faces.

            “Doyle?” She asked.

            “Uh…” He looked at her. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” He said, in a voice that he knew did not come across as either convincing or reassuring.

            “I’d like to take a sample of your embryonic fluid.” The doctor said. “If that’s alright with you, Mrs. Stevenson.”

            “Yes.” Cordelia said immediately. “Do it.”

            The doctor and a nurse prepared a syringe. “Now, I must warn you.” The doctor said. “There is a very small chance of miscarriage during-“

            “I’ll take it.” Cordelia said immediately. The doctor nodded.

            “Just count backwards from three, and you’ll feel a small pinch.” He told her.

            Cordelia took Doyle’s hand again. “Three,” She began, “Two…one…one…ONE!”

            “There.” The doctor said. “Done.” He handed the syringe to the nurse.

            Cordelia relaxed, letting go of Doyle’s hand. “There.” Doyle said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She glared at him.

            “Doctor?” The nurse said suddenly, panic in her voice. Everyone looked to see her holding up the syringe, which seemed to be melting. She dropped it, and they watched as it corroded through the floor.

            The nurse fled, and the doctor hesitated, looking stricken. “Um…excuse me.” He told them, and hurried out of the room.

            Doyle acted quickly. “Get dressed.” He said, helping Cordelia sit up. “We’re getting out of here.”

            “Doyle,” She began.

            “It’s going to be okay.” He said. “We’re going to Angel’s place.”

            She grabbed his arm to stop him. “Doyle,” She said again, “You saw them, didn’t you? On the ultrasound?” Doyle hesitantly nodded. “Just tell me one thing.” Cordelia went on. “Are they healthy?”

            He had not been expecting a question like that, and was left honestly at a loss for how to answer. “Uh…I don’t know.” He said finally. “Come on, we need to leave before the doctor comes back with an exorcist or something.”

**00000000ooooooooo00000000**

            They went to Angel’s apartment, where Doyle helped Cordelia get comfortable. “How do you feel now?” He asked her.

            She ignored the question, instead saying with earnest, “Doyle? Be honest with me. You saw them, didn’t you?”

            Doyle sighed. He had been evading questions about the babies ever since they had left the hospital. It was clear that nothing was going to distract her from the subject. “Yes.” He said finally. “I did.”

            “And they’re demons, aren’t they?” She asked, almost fearfully.

            “Yeah. They’re demons. I kind of figured they would be, but we have official confirmation of that now.” Doyle said.

            Cordelia took a deep breath. “Okay.” She said. “But…but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, right?”

            Doyle was surprised. “Cordelia-“

            “I mean,” She went on, “You’re half demon, and you’re fine! You’re a good guy! And Angel, he’s a vampire, and look at him!”

            “Cordy, are you sure you understand what’s going on?” Doyle asked with concern, sitting down of the edge of bed. “These demons, they’re not like me. Or Angel.”

            “But that doesn’t mean they’re bad!” Cordelia insisted. “We’ve met plenty of demons that haven’t been evil! And there were even more of them in Sunnydale.” She grabbed his hand. “Doyle, please. You’re not going to hurt them, are you?”

            Doyle hesitated, and reached out and gently brushed the hair out of her face. “I’m not going to let anything happen to _you_.” He said. “That’s a promise.”

            “Doyle?”

            He turned around and saw Angel standing in the doorway, waving him over. He got up and went to join him and Wesley in the hallway. “What did you find out?” He asked.

            “It happened to her friend Serena too.” Angel said. “She’s in the same situation as Cordelia.”

            “Does she know what happened?” Doyle asked.

            “Not really. She set up dates for a group of guys. She didn’t really know anything about them. They were always asking for people like Cordelia. People with no family in town, who they thought nobody would miss.”

            Doyle felt a wave of fury rise in him again at the idea that no one would miss Cordelia, but he forced himself to ignore it and stay focused. Wesley spoke up, “Most likely the demon has been somehow allowing these men to impregnate women with his offspring for him.”

            “How’s Cordelia?” Angel asked.

            Doyle sighed. “I don’t know.” He said. “I took her to the hospital, which was a disaster. While we were there she was pretty much the same as when you last saw her, you know, distressed and scared but more or less coping. Since then, though…she’s been acting strange.”

            “Strange how?” Wesley asked.

            “Like she’s worried about them.” He said. “The babies, I mean. It could just be the stress of the situation, but…”

            “You think they might be effecting her somehow.” Angel said. He nodded.

            “It’s not unheard of.” He said.

            “We should act quickly, then.” Wesley said.

            “Agreed.” Doyle replied. “What’s our next move?”

            “We need to find Wilson and the others.” Angel said. “Serena had an idea of where they might be. Wes and I are going to go confront them. You stay here with Cordelia and start going through the books. We’ve got to figure out what kind of demon this thing is.”

            Doyle nodded. “Fine.” He said.

            Angel looked like he was about to say something else, but then he paused and looked at something over Doyle’s shoulder, making a face. Confused, Doyle and Wesley both turned around and saw Cordelia standing in the kitchen, next to the refrigerator, drinking a cup of Angel’s blood supply like it was a milkshake. All three of the men stood and stared at her in stunned silence. “Oh,” Was all Doyle could say, feeling slightly nauseous.

            “I don’t think I’ve ever realized just how disgusting that was.” Angel said.

            Cordelia put down the cup, which was now empty, and wiped her mouth with her sleeve before looking at them. “I was hungry.” She said, and walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the bedroom.

            The three of them looked at each other as they attempted to recover. “Right.” Angel said. “Um, Wesley and I need to go. You stay here and start the research. And…order a pizza or something.”

            “You got it.” Doyle said. “And Angel?” He added before the other two could walk away, causing them both to pause, “Give him an extra kick for me, yeah?”

            Angel nodded. “Count on it.” He said. “Come on, Wesley.”

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            This had to be it.

            Doyle looked at the picture of the demon in the book. “I’ve got you, you bastard.” He said under his breath. “We’re onto you now.”

            “Is that him?”

            Doyle jumped and turned around to see Cordelia right behind him. He hadn’t heard her leave the bedroom. “Yeah.” He said. “I think so.” She came up and looked at the drawing in the book. “Don’t worry.” He told her. “Now that we now what he is, we can figure out how to fix this.”

            “Yeah.” Cordelia said faintly.

            Doyle stood up and went to grab the phone, turning his back to Cordelia. “I’ve got to call Angel.” He said. “I’ll tell him-“

            Before he could finish the sentence, or dial the phone, Cordelia hit him hard in the back of the head with the book. He fell to the ground, and the world became fuzzy for a moment before he passed out.

            The last thing he heard before everything went dark was Cordelia’s voice: “No one is hurting my babies.”

**000000000oooooooo000000000**

            “Doyle?”

            Doyle groaned as he heard Angel’s voice, and the throbbing pain began in the back of his head. He opened his eyes, and found Angel and Wesley looking down at him with concern. Why was he lying on the floor? He remembered what happened, and sat up. “Cordelia.” He said.

            “She’s gone.” Angel said. “She must have run off after she knocked you out.”

            “I found the demon that I think did this to her.” Doyle said. “She saw it, and she just went crazy.”

            “It must be the psychic link that the demon has to the mothers.” Wesley said. He picked up the book that Doyle had found the demon in and started reading through the pages it was open to.

            “We have to find her.” Doyle said.

            “Agreed.” Angel replied. He helped him to his feet.

            “She’s most likely with the demon.” Wesley said, looking up from the book.

            “Did you find out where to find him?” Doyle asked.

            “Yeah.” Angel said.

            “Good.” Doyle took the book from Wesley. “And I found the demon. It’s called a Haxil. I was just getting to part about what we should do with it when Cordy knocked me out.”

            “As I understand it, if we kill the Haxil, it will sever his connection to the offspring.” Wesley said. “And that’s all we have to do. We sever his connection, and then poof, no more evil pregnancies.”

            “Right.” Doyle said, but his confidence was fading as he skimmed through the book. “There’s just one problem.”

            “What’s that?” Angel asked.

            “Well, I don’t want to use the phrase ‘impossible to kill’.” Doyle began, looking up. “But it’d be okay if you wanted to.” He handed Angel the book. “It’s immune to almost everything, and it’s gigantic.” He sighed, despair threatening to set in. They were running out of time. Within hours, Cordelia could be…

            No. Don’t think about that.

            Wesley looked noticeably disheartened. “So what do we do?”

            “I’ve got an idea.” Angel said suddenly.

            “You do?” Wesley asked, brightening.

            “What is it?” Doyle asked.

            Angel looked at Wesley. “Wes, can you shoot straight?”

**000000000oooooooo000000000**

            The Haxil was in a warehouse down by the pier, and all of the women who had been impregnated by it had been drawn there as well. They were all sitting with the Haxil in a large tub when Doyle and Wesley came in. “Ready?” Wesley asked. Doyle nodded wordlessly. They walked towards the tub.

            “Cordelia!” Doyle called when he saw her, sitting with the others. She didn’t respond, of course.

            The Haxil made a growling noise and stood up. It really was breathtakingly huge, nearly hitting the ceiling as it towered above them. Doyle swallowed hard, but kept his composure. _“Cordelia,”_ he thought. “ _You have to do this for Cordelia.”_

            “Intruders.” The Haxil said, it’s voice deep and echoing throughout the room, “What are you doing here?”

            “We’re here to kill you.” Wesley announced. He raised his fists as though preparing for a fight.

            “That’s right.” Doyle said. “You heard him.”

            The Haxil laughed loudly. “You think you stand a chance against me?”

            “Are you familiar with the story of David and Goliath?” Wesley asked. “I assure you it has particular relevance to this situation.”

            “We’ll give you one last chance.” Doyle said. “Let them go.”

            “No.” The Haxil said. “I’m going to kill you.” He started to move towards them.

            “Angel, now!” Doyle yelled, and then ducked. Angel burst in and threw a tank of liquid nitrogen at the Haxil, who caught it. Wesley pulled out his gun and fired at the tank. It burst, showering down on the demon. Doyle raised his head and watched as it froze solid before his eyes. Screams started coming from the tub as each woman doubled over. “Cordelia!” Doyle shouted, and he ran over. He placed his hand on Cordelia’s shoulder just as the screams died out and she looked up. Her pregnancy had vanished. “Cordy?” Doyle asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

            Cordelia climbed out of the tub and ran to release an anchor. Everybody watched as part of the ship crashed into the Haxil and shattered it.

**000000000oooooooooo000000000**

            Only a few days later, Cordelia was ready to come back into work, and Doyle, Angel, and Wesley were all frantically nervous about it. “She’ll be here any minute.” Doyle said, checking the clock yet again. “Wesley, do you have coffee ready?”

            “Yes.” Wesley said eagerly, handing him a cup of coffee.

            Angel laid out a couple of magazines on Cordelia’s desk. “I got her some fashion magazines.” He said, turning to the others. “She likes them.”

            “That’s a good idea.” Doyle said, nodding to him. He was trying to keep his cool, but inside he was probably the most nervous of all of them. He hadn’t spoken with Cordelia since killing the Haxil demon. Angel had checked in with her, but he had stayed out of it (and then annoyed Angel with his endless inquiries about her well-being). The things that she had said during their conversation at the hospital had been stuck in his head for days now. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he saw her again.

            “Here she is.” Wesley said eagerly, and Doyle, who was still facing the desk, heard the door open behind him. He turned around to see Cordelia walk in, smiling, like nothing had happened.

            “Welcome back.” Angel said.

            Doyle snapped himself out of his self-reflective trance. “It’s good to see you, Princess.” He said.

            Cordelia’s smile broadened as she saw them. “Aw, thanks guys.” She said. “But really, I’m fine.” She walked over and set her bag down by her desk. She caught Doyle’s eye very briefly, but carried on. “I’m ready to get back to normal. In fact, I just came from an audition!”

            “Really?” Angel asked in mild surprise, glancing at Doyle, who just shrugged.

            “How did it go?” Wesley asked.

            “Really great! The producer was super nice. We’re going out to dinner tonight!” Cordelia said enthusiastically.

            Doyle’s heart sunk a little. “Oh.” He said. “That’s, um…great.”

            “Yeah! He says I just have to let him impregnate me with his demon spawn, and I’ve got the part!” Cordelia said. She grinned as she watched them slowly register that she was joking. Doyle let out a small relieved sigh. “Guys, come on.” Cordelia said. “I’m kidding.”

            “Right.” Angel said, smiling.

            “You’ve got a cruel streak, you know that?” Doyle asked, relaxing a little bit. She smiled at him.

            “Honestly, I’m okay.” She told them. “It was rough, but I got through it. And I’ve learned from this experience. Let’s see, what have I learned? I learned, um, men are evil? Oh, wait, I knew that.” Doyle smiled. “I learned that L.A.’s full of self-serving phonies? Nope, had that one down, too. Um, sex is bad?”

            It was Angel’s turn to smile. “We all knew that.” He said.

            Cordelia smiled back again. “I learned,” She said more seriously this time, “That I have three people who I trust, completely. Thank you.”

            Wesley turned around, making an odd choked sound. The other three glanced at each other, and then Doyle took a step back to speak to him. “Wes?” He asked. “Are you crying?”

            “No, I just have something in my eye.” Wesley replied. Cordelia grinned, and Doyle patted Wesley on the shoulder.

            “Well, we’re glad to have you back.” Angel told Cordelia. He glanced at her and Doyle, and then said, “Hey, Wesley, let’s go talk about that…thing.”

            “What thing?” Wesley asked as he composed himself, frowning.

            “You know…the thing.” He nodded towards his office, his eyes flickering over to Cordelia and Doyle again.

            Wesley caught on. “Oh, yes, of course! The thing. Let’s go.”

            He and Angel walked away, leaving Doyle and Cordelia alone. They looked at each other uncertainly. “Well.” Doyle said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Maybe I should…”

            “Doyle?” Cordelia interrupted.

            He paused, looking at her. “Yes?”

            “I wanted to thank you. For everything you did.”

            He gave her a small smile. “Don’t mention it. Angel and Wesley did most of the work. It was nothing, really.”

            “No, it was something.” Cordelia insisted. “It meant a lot, you staying with me. Thank you.” After a moment, she added, “And I’m sorry I knocked you out with a big book.”

            “Eh, I’ve had worse head trauma.” He dismissed.

            She smiled. Then she said, “Listen, about what I said at the hospital-“

            “Don’t worry about it.” He told her. “I get it. You were under a lot of stress at the time. We all say stuff in situations like that. Don’t give it another thought.”

            “But I meant it.” Cordelia said. “I do care about you, and I freaked after what happened with the Scourge, and Wilson was mainly to make you jealous.”

            Doyle hesitated, a feeling of cautious hope bubbling in his chest. “You know how I feel about you.” He said.

            “Yeah.” She agreed. She paused, as though carefully considering her words, and then said, “Do you want to have dinner? For real, this time?”

            Doyle smiled at her. “Yeah.” He said. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

            She seemed to relax a little. “Good.” She said. “You can take me to dinner. But it’s just dinner.” She added sharply, pointing at him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

            “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Doyle said quickly, his smile widening. “Thanks, Cordy.”

            “Don’t thank me yet, let’s see how it goes first.” Cordelia dismissed. “Now, go help Angel and Wesley with their ‘thing’.” She made air quotes as she spoke.

            “You got it, Princess.” Doyle agreed, and he walked away with a grin on his face. There was hope. She glanced at him as she sat down, a smile on her face as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be about their first date, before we get into the next episode (“She”). I’m not sure when it will be up, but I’ll try not to let it take as long this time. Feedback is always appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know how often I’ll be able to update. I’m on break right now and for the next few weeks, so I’ll have a little more time than I usually do until the new semester starts. I’ll update as much as I can, but I won’t promise any regular updating schedule because I’ll never be able to follow it. I want to do each episode, and then also a few independent chapters occasionally, between episodes. I should have the next chapter up soon. Please review!


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